Moments in Time
by Handful of Silence
Summary: Various requested oneshots regarding Sulu and Chekov. Sulu/Chekov Spock/Uhura. CHAPTER 6; Token - It's such an insignificant item that Chekov risked his life for, but it means so much to the Russian that Bones doesn't have the heart to be mad.
1. Guilt

**Moments in Time**

_**Pairings: Sulu/Chekov**_

_Authors Note: This " story" is basically where I'm going to put all my requested drabbles, so if you did ask for any, they'll probably end up here. That said, I can't make any promises about the regularity of the updates, but I will try to get most peoples' requests up here- apart from __**Broken, Orders, Rage **__or __**Lonely, **__which have already been posted separately through my account. _

_This oneshot was requested by __**momiji'sunusedhal**__o. Hope this is ok. Although the pairing will always be Sulu/Chekov (because they are truly AMAZING together) this oneshot is a pre-slash relationship. If you don't like slash, and are offended, I'd stop reading now. It gets more obvious from this point on. :-)_

_**Warnings: Spoilers for the film (although why you're reading this if you haven't seen it I have no idea), Hints of slash.**_

_**Disclaimer: Don't own, never will. Enough said. **_

**Guilt**

"That should do it Scotty" Chekov said, getting up from where he'd been kneeling next to the transporters' transponder box and wiping his hands on the legs of his trousers.

"OK, Pav" the Scotsman replied, ginger scalp visible over the transporter station as he fiddled around the inner circuit board, disconnecting and reconnecting wires until he seemed satisfied "Can ye come round and test this baby now? It's ah long shot, but if w' can get through that magnetic field 'round that god awful wasteland, ah'll be a happy man."

"Aye" Chekov grinned, moving round to the monitor as Scotty finally replaced the access panel and got to his feet.

"That should do it" Scotty nodded, more to himself than Chekov "Let's hope your idea of recalibrating the transporter to account for the excess gravity on that screwed up mass of rock works"

Scotty looked genuinely irritated that he'd been dragged away from his usual duties and his replicated cheese sandwiches to sort out the transporter and Chekov bit back a smile as he listened to Scotty grumble on about the planet the away team was meant to be visiting as diplomatic overseers- although in Chekov's opinion whatever usually started out as a diplomatic meeting never seemed to end as such without some sort of trouble.

Scotty moved to the side to allow Chekov to access the monitor, the Russians fingers automatically placing themselves on the correct buttons, readying himself for a routine transport.

"On the count of three, then" Scotty said, placing an empty test canister from the cargo bay onto the platform as a test subject.

"One"

A jolt of memory flashed behind Chekov's eyelids, blinding him with its intensity. _Slender fingers pressed frantically on the touch screen, desperately trying to get them all him range, trying to save them, trying to save her. Chekov could have gotten them out, should have gotten them out. _

"Two"

Vulcan dieing before his eyes, rocks falling, millennia-old culture burning, destroyed and Amanda Grayson dieing along with it. Chekov's done the simulation a thousand times, could do it with his eyes closed, 'cept this time he failed, he screwed up and someone else paid the price.

"Three"

_The look on Commander Spock's face is unbearable, empty, his hand outstretched and reaching for someone who isn't there, who'll never be there again. _

_The sense of failure in Chekov's chest is blinding, choking and all he wants to do is scream and cry because he couldn't catch her, couldn't save her because he wasn't fast enough. He killed her. _

"Pavel? Pav?"

Chekov dragged his thoughts back to reality, blinded by the sudden light. Had it gotten brighter? His hands were trembling violently on the controls, and although the memories were fading from his mind for the moment, the blinding sense of failure still nestled in his heart, a dead weight, weighing him down, clasping his breath with icy tendrils and squeezing tightly, asphyxiating any hope, any excuses for his failure.

"Sorry…. Scotty. Vasn't zinking straight"

Scotty looked at him worriedly, moving away from the pad back over to Chekov.

"You ok, Pavel? You've gone as pale as ah ghost"

"I'm fine" Chekov lied through his teeth, breathing out the breath he hadn't realised he was holding shakily, his limbs feeling numb, like he hadn't used them in a while.

"Maybe ye should take a break" Scotty suggested, casting another worried look at Chekov's trembling hands, the Russians ragged breaths like he'd been running a marathon abating slightly as Chekov tried to calm down. "Go an' see Doctor McCoy"

Chekov didn't want to see Doctor McCoy, knowing that even a visit to the grumbling doctor wouldn't fix what was wrong, but if he had to choose between going to Bones and staying here with Scotty and his worried looks, he'd choose the former. It wasn't that he resented Scotty, after all he was only being a good friend, but Chekov didn't deserve his pity, the worry. The fact that someone cared just made him feel ashamed.

"Da, I'll go see him" Chekov said quietly, moving away from the console and deliberately not catching Scotty's eyeas he walked out in the direction of the Med bay.

*

"Well, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with you physically" Dr Leonard McCoy said thoughtfully, looking at the results displayed on his tricorder as Chekov put his shirt back on.

"Zhanks avay doctor" the Russian muttered, keen to get away from the sterile coldness of the med bay and the piercing look in McCoy's eyes. He couldn't cope with this now, not here. He needed time alone to collect his thoughts and block out the memories that kept coming back like resurfacing cancer in his mind. " I vill just be going now" Chekov got up off the examining table, planning on making a quick exit, but the doctor was quicker then that.

"Wait just a minute, kid" Bones continued, moving to stop the young man " I said that there wasn't anything wrong with you physically, but I haven't ruled out that there isn't an issue mentally"

Chekov almost froze, panic catching his heart in an iron grip. He knew what he'd done. The doctor wasn't stupid and sooner or later he'd put two and two together, if he hadn't done so already.

"Have you been ok, Pavel?" Bones said, his gentleness catching Chekov off guard. He didn't deserve the doctor's kindness or his sympathy. He was a murderer, and it was through his negligence that Amanda Grayson hadn't been transported aboard the Enterprise along with the rest of the Vulcan party. He should have taken into account the landscape and the turbulence, and the possibility that the ground could have given anyway beneath her. A blush of shame rose up in Chekov's cheeks.

"I have been fine, doctor" Chekov muttered, his sad blue eyes not meeting McCoy's for fear they would reveal his lie. He understood that the doctor would eventually prise the truth from him, but Chekov knew he couldn't talk to Bones about this. He respected the doctor and trusted his judgement, but he knew what he would say if Chekov confided in him. He'd tell him that it was all right, that it wasn't his fault in any way, but it was, Chekov knew it was. It had been _his _actions, _his _failure to do his job.

Chekov cleared his throat, well aware of the doctors gaze on him " I just haf not been sleeping, is all" That statement was at least true.

Bones, studying the teenagers pale complexion and bruise like bags under his eyes, could not deny the validity of the comment.

"Any particular reason?"

The vague remembered snatches of Chekov's nightmares, mirroring the flashback he had had in engineering ,rose up unbidden in Chekov's mind, but he washed them, replying in a quiet "No"

Bones sighed. He knew that something was wrong with the usually bouncy smiling navigator, but seeing the kid looking so lost and young made him reluctant to push him for more answers. He was obviously not the right person to help Chekov with whatever this was, but he didn't want to stand by and do nothing while this thing eat Chekov apart. It was obviously affecting the kid at work now, and that was serious enough to grasp the CMO's attention. It was his job to help the crew through any problems they may have, and he was going to do his job to the best of his ability.

"Alright kid" he said, regretting the words as soon as he spoke them. The kid wasn't ok, any idiot could see that. His eyes were dark, tired, lacking in their usual excitable gleam and there was something in place of his normal cheeriness, like a weight hanging heavy on his young shoulders. And as Bones looked carefully at Chekov, taking in the look in his eyes and the expression on his face, it suddenly dawned on him on what it was. Guilt. Shame. Self-hatred because of something he'd done. And as the jigsaw pieces clicked, Bones realised exactly what it was Chekov was feeling guilt over and he cursed himself for not seeing this happening sooner. Bones felt the same feelings when he lost a patient, but was old and wise enough to know that if there were anything he could have done he would have been able to save them. It was different for Chekov; for all his close-to-maturity, he was still young, doubtful of his abilities, and unaccustomed to the hazard of death on a spaceship. It had been unfair for McCoy to assume that Chekov would be ok after someone- Spock's mother- had been lost on his watch.

"Are you on shift next with Sulu?" he asked Chekov, and the Russian nodded although Bones noticed a little light come into the young mans eyes at the mention of Sulu. And as an idea came into his head suddenly, but he kept his face neutral as the gears in his brain went overtime. He might not be the right person to talk to Chekov but Sulu almost certainly was. He was Chekov's best friend and Bones seldom saw one around the ship without the other in tow. If anyone could help, Bones would put his money on the composed helmsman.

"Ok, Pavel " he said, fixing a look back on the Russian "I'm excusing you from duty for today. I want you to go back to your quarters and have a good solid eight hour sleep, go it?"

Chekov immediately looked panicked, his eyes widening and worried. He couldn't sleep, didn't want to, not when he knew that he would most likely wake up soon after from his nightmares, the image of Spock's broken face, hands outstretched and the empty lock-on grid in front of him.

"But, I am fine for duty…I vill…"

"No buts" Bones interrupted, stopping Chekov in his tracks "I want you back in your quarters in ten minutes understood?"

McCoy saw Chekov's shoulders droop, muttering a quick 'aye, sir' but not before the doctor caught the look of apprehension and …an emotion almost like fear in the Russians eyes. He watched Chekov leave his office, waiting a few moments until the kid's footsteps had died away before walking briskly over to the comm. pad, determination clear on his world-worn face.

"Kirk? It's Bones"

"Bones" came the ever-cheery greeting from the captain of the Enterprise "What can I do for my amazing CMO today?"

"Cut the niceties Jim, this is important" Bones almost growled, but held himself in check "We have a problem with our navigator and I need your help fixing it"

Kirks tone was suddenly serious, his tone always changing whenever one of his crew was in trouble "Chekov? Anything Bones, you know that"

"Chekov won't be coming in for duty today" Bones replied slowly, " but I'm going to need to borrow Sulu from you for a bit…"

*

Sulu had to admit; he was slightly confused about this whole business, as his feet took him at a steady pace down the carpeted corridor of deck four. It had started when Kirk had gotten that comm. message from Bones, he was sure of it, remembering the whispered conversation the two had quickly exchanged, and although he considered it a foolish notion, borne out of some latent paranoia, he swore that Kirk kept glancing over at him throughout his conversation, turning away whenever his eyes met with Sulus'.

After the conversation had finished, Kirk had paused for a moment, eyes vacant and expression thoughtful before announcing to Sulu that there had been a mix up with the rota's, and that Sulu had had to be temporarily moved to Beta shift, due to …Sulu couldn't even clearly remember what screwed-up excuse Kirk had given… something about a new crew-member learning the ropes. Sulu knew for a fact that they had picked up no new crewmembers since their last stop at the Star base near Io, which had been almost two weeks ago now, but he let it drop as Kirk told him that he wasn't going to be needed for the next fourteen hours, and had dismissed him from the bridge.

With suddenly so much time on his hands, Sulu had wondered what he was going to do. He'd considered going down to the botany labs, to check on some of the Tallian Lilies he'd been nurturing into growth, or taking advantage of his free time to get some fencing practice in, but he'd finally settled on going back to his quarters and picking up a book he'd been halfway through. He hadn't had a lot of time recently to get back into the story and he wanted to find out what happened in the end, which was why he was making his way back to his quarters.

On arriving back to his quarters, he settled in, intending not to go anywhere else for the next few hours. He got changed out of his uniform, pulling off his golden-yellow top and black undershirt and gladly exchanging it for a comfortable pair of synthetic-denim jeans and a loose navy t-shirt, settling down on his bed and picking up his padd, on which was stored the data file for his book.

It was about half an hour later, when he heard movement in the room next door. He hadn't realised Chekov was off-duty, Sulu thought as he listened to the restless movement. He hadn't seen him on the helm that day, being greeted by that gormless smile of Ensign Halin as he'd sat down at the start of shift, but he'd been told by the grinning three-eyed navigator- _not as good as Pavel, _Sulu had thought to himself irritably, that Chekov was helping Scotty out with modifying the transporter and that he wouldn't be back for the shift.

He must have gotten back early, Sulu thought to himself, smiling to himself. He hadn't seen a problem yet that Chekov hadn't thrown his all into, and with the combined effort of the Russian whiz kid and the genius that was Montgomery Scott; there was little chance that they hadn't managed to modify the transporter, probably using the most unorthodox methods in the book during the process.

Sulu was settling back into his book and getting comfortable again when he heard a noise from Chekov's room. He paused, listening out for another sound, when he heard it again, a low cry, halfway between a sob and a moan, coming from next door. As he listened, the sound got louder, more fearful and it sounded to Sulu like Chekov was having a nightmare. It was a bit of a strange time to be sleeping, but they all slept odd hours here on the Enterprise, and Sulu was up, the book forgotten as he made his way across the room to the door which adjoined the two rooms, knocking on the panelling twice.

"Pavel? Is every thing ok?"

Chekov was either unwilling or unable to answer, the low cries turning into shouts, as though Chekov was scared, terrified, shouting for something that Sulu couldn't quite make out.

Sulu was never one for barging into people's rooms without permission, but if ever it seemed necessary, it was now. He pushed the door open hard, grateful to find it unlocked, and was welcomed by the immediate sight of Chekov, writhing and twisting, his face contorted in desperation, shouting, begging, pleading for something to stop, to not happen, his hands reaching out.

"Pavel!" Sulu said loudly, rushing to Chekov's bedside and shaking the young man by the shoulders. The duvet had been violently thrown off the bed, kicked away by Chekov and heavy tears had began to flow down the Russians porcelain pale skin, carving two lines down his cheeks. "Pavel, wake up, please!"

Suddenly, Chekov let out a final cry, his body twisting before his fear-blue eyes snapped open, sitting up suddenly, his hands grasping hold of Sulu's arms as though he was using the helmsman as an anchor to the real world.

"Hikaru!" Chekov breathed out, his tone heavy with panic as he fixed a wild questioning look at Sulu. Without warning, the helmsman watched as heavy tears yet again began to run from the young mans eyes, looking oh-so vulnerable as small sobs started to hitch in his throat, his hands and body visibly trembling despite the heat regulated temperature of the ensigns quarters.

"Pavel, what's wrong?" Sulu asked worriedly, holding the navigator close as Chekov tried to form words through his tears, looking several years younger as he allowed himself to be taken into Sulu's comforting embrace, the helmsman wrapping his arms around the teenagers body and rocking him slightly, trying desperately to think of a way to sort this. Pavel was crying. Pavel Chekov, who always smiled, who always had a joke and a laugh ready for the graveyard shift, was crying quietly as though he was scared, frightened of reliving that dream, and Sulu could do nothing except hold the young man, hoping that being there would be enough. He wasn't any good at comforting, Uhura or Scotty would have been a lot better at this but unfortunately they weren't here. It was just him.

He would have thought that being so close, almost intimate, with a person who was primarily his best friend, as well as his colleague would have made him feel slightly awkward, or at the very least self-conscious. He'd never seen Pavel like this, looking so lost and scared, barely a trace of the smiling navigator he knew. It occurred to Sulu that there was obviously things he hadn't known or hadn't noticed about his friend that he should have done. Despite this, he couldn't sum up any feelings of awkwardness at this particular moment. As Sulu sat himself down on the bed next to Chekov, rubbing the Russians back in soothing circles as Chekov rested his head against Sulu's shoulder, the helmsman felt strangely peaceful, comfortable with the younger mans proximity. But now was not the time to think of these things as his immediate attention turned back to Chekov.

"Pav, come on," he whispered to the young man "come on, why don't you tell me what happened, ok?"

Tear streaks still lined Chekovs face as he looked up again at Sulus face, the warmth and concern in his colleagues face calming him down slowly as he began to speak in a whisper. Sulu had to strain to hear what he was saying, his voice trembling slightly as he tried to marshal his jumbled thoughts; like pieces of a jigsaw that were strewn across the floor in disorder, and the Russian trying desperately to put them back together, reigning in control of his emotions- although to be honest, Chekov had never been very good at hiding his feelings. As things went he was usually an open book, his heart worn on the yellow cuffs on his sleeves. But this was something different; something that went deeper then just a nightmare, and Sulu had failed to notice it.

"It vas the same dream, " he whispered in a hoarse voice, moving to wipe the tears away with the sleeves of his pyjama top " It's the destruction of Wulcan all over again and I still can't save her, no matter vhat I do. Every night 'Karu, I vatch her die again and it's my fault" tears were tentatively falling from Chekov's eyes again, but the Russian made no attempt to brush them away, staring at a point near the floor as he spoke as though unable to meet Sulu's eyes. "I'm a failure, 'Karu. If I was doing my job properly she wouldn't have died and now I have to relive the moment I murdered her over and over again…"

Chekov stopped for a moment, breathing in deeply, and Sulu felt his heart go out to the seventeen year old, his best friend aboard the Enterprise. _Oh Pavel_, Sulu thought with growing horror, realisation coming at him with the suddenness of warp speed. The Russian had been having these dreams for weeks, suffering in silence and Sulu hadn't noticed. He should have seen something like this; he knew Chekov and his ability to blame himself for every unstoppable misfortune he came across. Why had he thought this would be any different, that Chekov would react differently when he lost someone he felt responsible for? Sulu should have noticed this and suddenly all the small seeds of concern he'd had buried, unnoticed, sprouted and thrust themselves into the forefront of his thoughts. Chekov's tired eyes, the faraway look whenever he'd just been left to his thoughts, his seeming inability to talk to Spock without averting his eyes, as though he was ashamed of something. How could he have missed the obvious pointers to this? What sort of a friend was he that he couldn't even notice when something was wrong?

"Pavel, look at me" Sulu whispered gently, trying to catch Chekov's eyes. He had to fix this if nothing else had to make Chekov see just how wrong he was. "Ensign, that's an order" Sulu had never pulled rank on Chekov before and the words felt uncomfortable and leaden in his mouth, the command hollow and lacking in authority, but it did the trick Chekov's blue eyes looking up to meet the brown softness of Sulus. The helmsman tenderly drew Chekov's face upwards using one edge of his knuckle against the Russians chin, and no matter how much Chekov wanted to turn away from the care and compassion in those mocha coloured orbs, he found he couldn't as their gazes locked, each forced to look deeply into the others eyes. Sulu suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to kiss the Russian but quickly cleared the thought from his mind. Now was not the time to complicate things.

"Sometimes," he said quietly to Chekov " things just happen and there isn't a logical reason to explain it."

"But I could have caught her," Chekov muttered back as a reply, a blush of shame colouring his cheeks in a smudge of pink as he reminded himself of his failure "I've done ze simulations a thousand times, if I had just been quicker then I could have…"

"Life isn't a simulation, Pav" Sulu interrupted softly, resisting the temptation to brush away a wayward solitary tear that had fallen from Chekov's eyes. "You aren't always going to be able to predict what comes round the corner. All you can do is be as ready as you can and try your damned hardest with whatever life throws at you. And I _know_ that you give your all to this ship, every single hour of every single day, and I think Kirk knows that too"

"You think?" Chekov asked quietly and Sulu had to try hard to ignore the pang of jealously he felt at the small amount of hero-worship he heard in Chekov's tone. Everyone knew how the Russian looked up to Kirk but that didn't mean Sulu had to like it.

"Pav, if he didn't think you were trying your hardest, do you think he'd still have you as Alpha shift navigator on the Federations flagship?"

There was a pause as Chekov took in what Sulu had said. Although the Russian was no longer crying, Sulu hadn't let go of him, and Chekov hadn't seen any need to move out of his current –very close- position. He certainly hadn't complained about it.

"And you?" Chekov whispered back, "what you zink?"

Sulu felt his heart lighten and tried to feel at all smug about the fact that Chekov was valuing his opinion over that of even the unfaultable Captain Kirk. Guaranteed, as a role model to the young man, Kirk definitely had his moments where many of his better qualities shone through, but that thought did little to take away from Sulu's pride.

"I don't think you should blame yourself," he said slowly, considering his answer carefully "Even Spock knows that you couldn't have done anything to save Amanda. It was just chance, Pavel, and it was just bad that it happened on your watch. I know you feel responsible in some way but you tried your hardest to catch her and I don't think her death means you failed in your job" Sulu took a breath "You saved me and Kirk, remember? If you hadn't caught us, we'd both have been dead"

"So you don't think I failed?" the question was so innocent that Sulu had to give a small smile, holding Chekov tighter

"No, Pav, I don't" _You'll never be a failure, Pavel, not to me. _Sulu thought inside, but chose not to voice his thoughts, at least for the moment.

"Thank you, 'Karu" Chekov whispered and in that statement managed to convey all the emotions he was feeling inside.

"Hey, that's what friends are for" Sulu smiled, despite the fact he'd much rather be more then a friend to Chekov, and he felt rather then saw the navigator smile back "If you ever need me, you know I'm always here for you"

"Da, I know, Hikaru" Chekov replied, one of his hands slipping into Sulu's, holding it tightly "I know"

Sulu tried not to let his mind over-analyse Chekov holding his hand –_ it's just a hand-hold you love struck idiot, he's not confessing his undying affections- _and the two didn't speak for a while until Sulu heard the soft sound of Chekov's breathing and realised the Russian had fallen asleep against his chest.

He didn't have the heart nor the inclination to move him, so made himself a bit more comfortable, stretching his legs out and moving himself slightly, being careful not to disturb the sleeping seventeen year old. Chekov really did look beautiful when he was asleep; all worry free from his face and his expression innocent, as though he hadn't a care in the world

_Stop it, you pervy old man. He's seventeen, you don't go there._

Sulu shook his head free from thoughts of Chekov, but before he too closed his eyes, he-very softly- pressed a loving kiss on the top of Chekov's dark blonde curls, glad that the navigator was too deeply asleep to notice. He may never be able to tell Chekov how he felt about him, but at least he had the small things like this moment to keep him going, Pavel sleeping softly against his chest with no nightmares invading his dreams.

"Sweet dreams, Pasha" he whispered to the darkness, as he closed his eyes, and waited for sleep to come.

-

_Hopefully that was ok for you guys. As always , if you have any comments or story requests, feel free to let me know. __For anyone who is reading 'From Perfect Strangers', I will be getting the third part up soon, and I'm sorry for the delay._


	2. Cold

_Author Note: Another oneshot requested by __**momiji'sunusedhalo**__, because they asked so nicely and gave me some virtual muffins. :-) I hope this is the sort of fluffy non-angst piece you're looking for. _

_This is just a little piece about Sulu and Chekov's relationship, so I don't really have any warnings. It's a bit short then I wanted, but c'est la vie. :-) As always – slash, and if you have any comments or requests feel free to contact me. _

**Cold**

Sulu dragged the duvet further up round his curled figure, burrowing against the warmer part of his pillow while tucking his legs up in an effort to keep his feet warm. It did little good. He was still cold, goosebumbs prominent as they pockmarked the soft flesh of his limbs even under layers of clothing. He was wearing his black undershirt underneath his Starfleet issue pyjama top, but it was doing little to raise his body temperature, shivering in shock as his foot slipped back down to the colder end of the bed before he managed to pull it back up again.

Sulu would never have expected it to be this cold aboard a heat-regulated starship, the temperature perfectly monitored and controlled as the optimum temperature for it's four hundred and forty occupants. That opinion had since been revised after a computer virus infiltrated the circuits of the Enterprise, starting off disrupting smaller things- replicators malfunctioning, turbo lifts stopping off on the different floors then requested- before beginning to affect the entire ship- phaser banks being intermittently short-circuited and power being inexplicably drained from the dilithuim crystals. Engineering had been working non stop over the past few days, with help from some officers from the _'Navaho', _a smaller Constitution-class starship that had been in the same sector when the Enterprise had requested assistance, repairing the damage the virus had caused and reconnecting wires and circuits, but the heat control hadn't been properly re-established which came back to Sulu's current problem. Until now, he'd never quite realised how cold it was in space.

The helmsman groaned, flipping over onto his other side and punching his pillow in an effort to get more comfortable. He almost imagined he saw the silvery plumes of hot air meeting cold as he breathed out, but knew that it was just his mind taunting him. Despite his change in position, it was just no use. There was no way he was going to sleep easily tonight, not being as cold as he was.

He stilled suddenly, hearing the doors to his quarters sliding open with a hiss of air, a few seconds passing before they closed shut with a similar noise. Someone moved inside his room, shuffling with slow tired feet across the carpeted floor of his room, making their way round over to the other side of the bed. Sulu felt a draft of cold air invading the cocoon-like structure he'd made around himself with the duvet, as the covers were moved next to him. He jumped slightly as he felt a warm body snuggle up next to him, and he berated himself for worrying about the identity of the figure.

"Pasha?" he questioned, turning over again to face his partner, his body protesting at the movement, begging to stay in an area of at least some heat. "What is it?"

"Thought you might be cold" he heard an accented voice mutter, moving closer to him.

"Oh and you're not?" Sulu asked, trying not to groan as he felt the heat radiating from the Russian lying next to him, warmth began to infuse through his icy bones as he felt the bare skin of the navigators arms touch his own, the goose pimples receding almost immediately. Chekov was like a bloody space heater sometimes. Not that he wasn't grateful; in fact in some small way he was glad that out of all the people he could have fallen for , he had fallen for the one person who could still retain some warmth despite the colder temperatures.

"'Is like summer in Leningrad" he heard Chekov reply jokingly, Sulu smiling inwardly as he felt the navigator entwine his stocking-ed feet around Sulu's, the soft cotton comforting against the exposed flesh of Sulu's feet.

"You're stealing all the covers Pav," he complained as Chekov moved closer, but secretly he loved this, as he turned onto his back so as not to let Chekov see his smile. Not that the Russian didn't know he was smiling, he'd been with Pavel too long now to be able to hide anything from the empathic navigator. Despite this, he'd never admit aloud how much he liked sharing a bed with Chekov, how he enjoyed listening to the Russians soft breathing as he slept, a look of innocent taking precedence over all the concern and concentration he displayed during the day. He guessed Chekov already knew, as whenever the opportunity arose Sulu found himself sharing a bed with Chekov, the Russian giving vague explanations for why he was there which probably disguised the fact that he also liked their moments together, just to be a normal couple, to have the little treasured moments that normal couples had. . Just because neither of them admitted it didn't mean that they didn't both know that the other felt that way. Sometimes it was hard to have a 'normal' relationship serving on board the Enterprise.

"No, I'm not" he heard Chekov grumble by way of a reply, but there was a smile in his voice.

"You're really irritating, you know that?" Sulu's voice also displayed a smile. It was a common reaction for Sulu to pretend to be grumpy when Chekov took over his bed space, but the Russian never really took him seriously.

Sulu heard a gentle laugh from Chekov, the Russian nuzzling his face into Sulu's neck affectionately. "Yeah. Now, shut up 'Karu and go to sleep"

Tiredness was softly creeping closer and Sulu smiled as Chekov rested his head against the helmsman's chest, Sulu wrapping his arms around the younger man. He paused, before kissing the top of Chekov's dark blonde curls softly, muttering an ' I love you' to the Russian as he settled down, closing his eyes with a gentle smile playing on his lips.

Somehow he wasn't that cold anymore.

-

_Thoughts?_


	3. Ghosts

_Author Note: This isn't actually based on a drabble, but I just thought I'd put it up here for all you nice people to enjoy. I know I haven't updated for a while and it's because my laptop's broken at the mo, so I've typed this up on an iPod touch and am using a library terminal to post this. Sorry about the delay and lack of writing, hope this makes up. _

_Pairings: Sulu/Chekov, mentions of Spock/Uhura_

_Warnings: Slash, non-cannon character death_

**Ghosts**

There had been rumours of something strange for nearly two months now, whispers in the rec room and over hushed tabletops of unusual happenings and strange phenomena in Room 17b of deck 4. It all came to a head quite suddenly, when, for the third time in six weeks, a new Starfleet officer, - this time Lieutenant Roger Davis that they'd picked up at Star Base two Delta not four days ago - barged into Captain Kirks' ready room without knocking, his face pale with a mixture of anger and fear, but his voice steady and determination as he announced quite suddenly that he wanted a room transfer or he wouldn't stay on the ship a moment longer.

The occupants of the room - namely Kirk and also Sulu who was sitting on a chair on the other side of the captains' desk nearer the door - looked at him blankly, quite confused at the lieutenants outburst. Davis carried on regardless, resolute as he said very clearly, in a clean cut fashion as though he was reciting out of an academy textbook " I don' t mind doing my duty sir, but I will not sleep in the quarters you have assigned to me, not while that... aberration… is still there"

Kirk recovered quickly from the shock, leaning forward with his hands clasped together to study the man, his expression neutral " Lt. Davis. To what aberration are you referring?"

" I can stand being at a post and understand that most of the crew wish someone else was still sitting in my seat" Davis barged on, determined to have his say and paying little attention to what Kirk had said " I can understand that you've lost someone and that I'm his replacement," At this comment, Sulu stiffened, and diverted his eyes, both from Davis and Kirk, who flicked his eyes worriedly at his pilot, " but I can not stand that thing in my room. Whispering and moving things. It's just not natural and I can't cope with it"

"Mr Davis." Kirk repeated a little louder, getting a little bit annoyed and silently wondering whether this new helm officer was space mad in any way, his brain being affected by his stay aboard a starship. He made a mental note to have Lt. Davis checked out by Bones when he next had the chance to talk to him "What are you talking about?"

" The ghost!" Davis near shouted, gesturing frantically as though he had expected Kirk to be aware of this already " the one in my room, the one who won't bloody leave me alone"

At this, Kirk found he had to smile, which he quickly turned into a placating grin once he saw Davis didn't see the joke "Mr. Davis, I'm sorry to point out, but there are no such things as ghosts"

Davis wasn't deterred. If anything his movements became more animated as he spoke, his frustration mounting steadily higher as he tried to get the two men to understand " Well, whatever it is, ghost or not, it bloody hates me and wants me out of that room. I can't work in that sort of environment and if you want my services aboard this ship, I suggest you move me to quarters elsewhere."

With that, he stormed out, and Kirk heard very little else from the helm officer after that.

Kirk wouldn't have minded moving Davis, it was no big inconvenience, except this wasn't the first time this had happened. Roger Davis had joined a list of two more officers, Sumiya Kapoor and tee'leffaran, who had both requested different rooms upon being given Room 17b, although none giving satisfactory reasons until Davis, probably knowing the ridiculous sounding grounds on which they requested and deciding that keeping relatively silent and vague about the whole thing was most likely the best way to go about it.

Davis couldn't really be blamed for wanting to leave the room. It had been bearable for the most part, and Davis hadn't noticed that things had been moved until he'd been looking for his glasses and had found himself unable to locate them, despite the fact he had been sure he'd left them on his desk. He'd found books open on different pages then he left them, found notes scribbled on padds, remainders to water someone's plants while on shift or buy gifts for upcoming birthdays, maps of star systems pulled up onto the small view screen he had when before they had been open on personal files.

It wasn't just the moving of things that was the problem. In the early morning, Davis had often been woken by the sound of laughing, a male joking laugh that, although quiet, was still noticeable and which continued on until Davis spoke into the empty room to see if anyone replied. It was other things too, snatches of songs sung in a low voice and violin music being practised with a steady ease penetrating the room. Sometimes he heard a Russian sounding voice speaking, sad or happy, and switching from an English to a Slavic tongue, his words nonsense to an outsider listening in. Most of the time, the voice was quiet, gentle, but sometimes Davis walked into vicious shouting, arguing that ended in a painful silence that somehow felt worse.

There were the cold areas he could walk through, with a sudden loss of heat he couldn't explain or when he thought he saw a flash of cornflower eyes and blonde brown curls before he looked again to find his eyes seeing only an empty space. And when he tried the locked drawer on his bedside cabinet, the one that he'd been told didn't open, he felt it give slightly before he felt something push him away, something solid and tangible as though someone's hands had shoved hard against his shoulder. There was only so much a guy could handle, and Davis had soon reached the limit, exactly like his predecessors.

Kirk had a vague idea of who the ghosts' identity could be, however impossible and however much Spock would call him illogical for it, and fruitfully asked the Vulcan to conduct some rudimentary scans on the room, searching for any unusual readings or energy fluctuations. Spock was prudent enough not to ask as to the nature or reasons of the tests, and when the scans turned up with nothing, he quietly added an almost unnoticed 'sorry, captain' to his conclusion, knowing that his answers weren't what Kirk had wanted to hear.

Sulu too, had an idea, and after he had excused himself from the captains' ready room after Davis's sudden entry and exit, he found his feet taking him along the carpeted corridors of deck 4 to Room 17b. He knew the route well, having once occupied the adjoining room before events had made it too painful to stay there. Kirk hadn't questioned his decision to move and until now he hadn't gone back, couldn't face the familiarity and memories that his surroundings brought back. Even now, as he stood outside the room, his fingers keying in the access code without thinking, his mind blank and movements taken up by other commanding areas in the body, he found he couldn't go in, wouldn't be able to face the disappointment crushing his chest free of air if he was wrong. Instead he stared into the depths of the room, the lights having turned on automatically. There was no movement. No whispers, no singing, no objects where they weren't meant to be. No ghosts, only a room alien to him now, filled with someone else's things, someone else's pictures on the wall, someone else's books on the bookshelf. There was nothing left of the old occupant, the one he had known so so well, his books on physics and languages and borrowed adventure stories, and his pictures of friends at the academy, friends who even now felt his loss deeply, like a part of them had been stolen away in the night as they helplessly watched.

Sulu found himself talking to Uhura about this at a table for two in the rec room, sitting over alcohol to help numb the feelings. He felt stupid for hoping, wanting someone back and hoping that the ghost was them, but when he had poured his heart out to the communications officer who was as close as a sister now, after the things they'd been through together, the storms they'd braved, she didn't look surprised as he told her about the silence in the room whereas with Davis, Kapoor and tee'leffaran it had been so alive.

" That's because it's you, isn't it?" Uhura said.

" Huh?" Sulu's brow crinkled in confusion, the lines of tiredness and insomnia on his face deepening, and Uhura sighed, as though she thought Sulu would have worked it out by now.

" Well, it's Pavel isn't it? I've never believed in ghosts, but there's an imprint there or something. It can hold a steady conversation as well"

" You've talked to him?" Sulus question sounded more like a desperate plea for an answer, and Uhura graciously continued, seeing no need to keep secrets. Pavel Chekov had been dead for almost two months, had bled to death in his partners arms, and she knew that Sulu hadn't been the same since, would never be complete without Chekov. They'd only had a small amount of time together, barely two years and two years was never going to be enough for the love they had had for each other. Sulu needed this.

" When Ensign tee'leffaran packed up and moved out," she said, " I went in. I visit now and again. He doesn't shout or anything, I just think he was confused about the people in his room... he didn't know them. He just talks to me. About anything. Wants to know how me and Spock are doing, jokes that he's expecting kids from us any time soon, asks about the bridge crew, asks about whether the Moscow spaceball team has beaten Leningrad yet. Just little things"

" Does he talk about me? Has he mentioned me?" the question came out more forceful then Sulu intended, but he had to know, needed to know. Pasha always promised that he'd never leave him and Sulu needed to know if he'd kept it, because Pasha never broke his promises, not to Sulu, not this promise

" He asks why you don't come see him" Uhura said quietly, and Sulu had to close his eyes to stop the tears he was always trying to hold back these days from falling from his lashes.

Later, when he bade goodnight to Uhura, he walked back to Chekov's room, pausing at the door before entering, greeted still by the silence and nothingness.

"Pav?" he whispered to the darkness " it...it's me. Hikaru" more silence follows and Sulu began to feel slightly foolish, talking to thin air, but he's desperate to know, and so carries on.

" Pasha, I'm sorry I haven't been here, but I'm back now. So, please, let me know if this is real, that I'm not trying so hard to get you back that I'm deluding myself"

A single tear fell from his eye and Sulu made no attempt to hold it back, feeling the warm wetness fall down over his cheeks down his face.

There was a rustle of clothing and Sulu felt a touch upon his face, solid and _there,_ and wiping away his tear from his cheek. Sulu didn't have to look up to know who it was, as he felt movement before arms moved from behind to encompass his waist, warm and tight, like nothing has ever been missing.

He knew Chekov had kept his promise.

---_Thoughts?_


	4. Clothes

_Author Note: OK, I enjoyed writing this immensely, but as a warning now, this is probably the most suggestive work I've ever had the guts to write. It could probably be worse, but I'm trying to keep my work relatively clean. Anyway, hope you like it. This oneshot was requested by __**Val B**__ who gave me the great idea for this drabbles, so the credit really does partly go to them. Hope this is ok. _

**Clothes**

Sulu was, to put it in the nicest way possible, bored out of his mind. Diplomatic meetings had never and were never going to be his forte, and he usually spent most of them imagining what else he could be doing with the time he was wasting listening to boring people argue, most of the activities including or revolving round Chekov, which- in Sulu's opinion- was never a bad thing. The helmsman did his best to look engrossed as he watched with a detached interest as the two opposing parties', The Ioak and The Thran, argued with each other about taxes and land boundaries.

Little could be said about the recent war between the two sides apart from that they'd been fighting for so many years, no-one could really remember what the original fight was about, keeping the war going through finger pointing and petty accusations and costing the planet much in terms of economical instability and political corruption. It was for these reasons and others that the two sides had recently decided to attempt a truce, inviting the Federation to act as an unbiased mediator to settle any arguments that should spring up. So far, it was not going well. Years of animosity between the sides made for uncomfortable scenes in the meeting rooms, where the blued skinned Ioak and green skinned Thran each accused the other for the issues the war had caused. It was more childish bickering then anything violent, but it was still a drag, and Sulu was sure he'd been in the beige walled room listening to the two go on at each other for at least several hours.

In fact, the only thing making this trip bearable was the presence of Sulu's colleague – and boyfriend- Pavel Chekov. The Russian had accompanied Sulu, Kirk and Spock down to the planets surface, but even his presence was proving of some distraction to the helmsman. The problem was Chekov's clothes. They'd all been made to dress up in some smart uniform. That it itself was bad, regardless of how they'd seemed to have supplied Chekov with a uniform a size or two too small. Obvious someone hated Sulu and wanted to see him suffer. There could be no other explanation for the helmsman's dilemma as he was forced to sit next to the Russian, trying hard not to notice his taunting dress uniform. The golden top and pitch-black trousers clung to Chekov like a second skin, the material innocently accentuating all the major parts of the navigator that Sulu was drawn to, causing his mind to jump quickly into warp as soon as Chekov's figure caught his eye. Every time he even _thought_ about Chekov and the outfit he was wearing, he felt an uncomfortable tightness in the most obvious places, and there was nothing to distract his perverted eyes from running themselves over Chekov's lithe form, lingering slowly on the details in a way that was anything but subtle - _the curve of_ _the Russian's neck, dipping down in a smooth slope down to his collarbone, faintly defined chest muscles evident through the tight material of his shirt, slim taught thighs…_- before very quickly remembering he was in a public place. _Was it getting hotter in here?_ He coughed briskly and reasserted himself, but his mind had other ideas and seemed to have no issue with wandering away from the scene he was currently watching -of the two parties continuing to argue, Kirk trying to quietly intervene with a tone of authority- onto a scene played inside his head that he liked a lot better, imagining Chekov carding slender fingers roughly through the helmsman's tussled hair, the Russian's lips bruised red from kissing as he moved his body closer to Sulu's, muttering Russian into Sulu's ear as he began trailing deep biting kisses down the helmsman's exposed neck…

"Hikaru? Are you ok?" Sulu felt himself being dragged from his sordid fantasies, and for a moment he felt something akin to irritation before he realised it was Chekov, the navigator having turned round to look at him with eyes of concern.

The Tran leader who was talking either did not hear them or paid them no heed, soldiering on with his speech with the stubbornness of a bull as he continued to outline his lucrative plans for development, while the Ioak representative heckled and jeered at his comments while Kirk tried to shush him and Spock pointed out the futility of attempting to jeopardise another's plans. The very picture of diplomacy.

"Yeah" Sulu managed to mutter, averting his gaze from that of the eighteen year old. If he looked at Chekov now, he'd lose all control he was managing to keep, and would probably jump the Russian here and now if he wasn't surrounded by people. "Yeah, I'm ok"

"You sure?" Chekov persisted, his eye's watching Sulu suspiciously for any sign of a lie "You look a bit flushed"

_Do I?_ Sulu considered faintly as his mind drifted back to Chekov's uniform, zoning surprisingly quickly out of the conversation as he imagined himself removing it teasingly from Chekov's body, starting with the gold braided tunic and black undershirt and working his way down from there.

_Shit, does my mind not have a filter?_ He cursed to himself. This_ is unbearable_

Sulu let out a soft groan, tinged with desperation but also a painful longing, which was having an uncomfortable effect on his body. "God, Chekov, why'd you have to wear that uniform?"

Chekov's expression turned from one of concern to confusion, looking down at his uniform with worried blue eyes "Vhy? I thought you said you liked it?"

_Does he have to be so bloody innocent?_ If anything, the look of confusion and adorable naivety on Chekovs face made him even more attractive if that were possible, and Sulu had to avert his eyes again as images of passion and exhilaration again filled his mind.

"I do" he paused, swallowing before muttering quietly, so that no-one but Chekov would hear- not that he needed to bother, Kirk and Spock were both more interested in keeping the meeting violence free then what the Enterprise's helm officers were talking about- "That's the whole problem"

"Oh." Understanding coloured Chekov's tone as a metaphorical light bulb made itself known above the Russians head, realising why Sulu had a problem.

For a few seconds, he was quiet, the only sound that of the Tran arguing in a guttural growl with the smug looking Ioak representative, before Sulu saw a wicked gleam surface in his blue eyes, a light he knew all too well, and a sight that usually spelled trouble for the elder helmsman. Chekov was just as bored as Sulu was, having spent most of the meeting staring blankly at an uneven patch of wall with his head in his hands. It looked now like he'd found some form of entertainment as Sulu scanned the young mans smiling face, and the helmsman guessed he wasn't going to like it. Chekov had a secret love of practical jokes and mischievous games, which for the most time fortunately stayed buried under the other layers of his personality. Now it seemed his boredom had caused it to resurface.

The Russian leaned in closer to Sulu- no one else paying much attention to the two Starfleet officers- and whispered sultrily in the helmsman's ears, in a voice so loaded with suggestion it was very hard not to notice.

"So, what are you going to do about your..._problem_?"

Sulu groaned as Chekov whispered wickedly into his right ear, saying, in the right tone and inflection, exactly what his body wanted to hear, and exactly what his self-conscious mind didn't. Now was not the best time. Sulu felt his trousers tighten uncomfortably, and he forced himself to turn around and look at Chekov, who was grinning subtly with an expression of complete innocence, Sulu cursing the fact that that the Russian had to show traces of his teenage hormones now. He may have been a fully-fledged member of Starfleet, but Chekov was still eighteen and therefore still prone to the unpredictability of his emotions and his body hormone balance. The fact still was that they were both very horny (Sulu might not have been eighteen but he was still a hot blooded male), and Chekov was completely taking advantage of the situation.

"Pav, stop it," Sulu whispered back, glad everyone else's attention was diverted elsewhere: the captain discussing with withering patience the correct attitudes and protocol for a polite discussion to the petulant Ioak leader, who seemed to have gone too far with his heckling and jeering. "That's playing dirty"

A grin spread across Chekovs face and he leaned his lips in closer so that they were almost touching Sulus ear. Sulu tried not to think about his proximity too much, but it was getting hard. " I though you liked me like that...all dirty...and rough" The image that that comment had planted in Sulus mind was definitely not helping, and he groaned inaudibly as his sordid mind comforted itself with all the things he would get to do to Chekov once he got out of here, images that definitely were not for sharing in polite conversation.

" Jesus. This isn't the best time Pavel"

" Anytime is a good time" came Chekov's smug reply, the grin of triumph never leaving his face. He knew what his comments were doing to Sulu and he was damn well enjoying it, his hand moving from where it had been propping up his head to slipping under the table, touching Sulus thigh tauntingly. " What are you waiting for?" His voice dropped lower, said in a soft whisper like conversations between lovers, which Sulu supposed was one way of describing their relationship, and his hand moved up higher, too close to the key area for Sulu not to get a definite reaction at the touch. " Ravage me"

No matter how much he was trying to stay in control, that comment definitely did more things to him then it should have done, and in a split second before common sense kicked in, he seriously considered taking Chekov right there and then, ripping those too tight clothes from his body, before he remembered the other people on the room and that if he did such a thing he would at the very least be severely reprimanded, not to mention the embarrassment of having his superiors seeing such an act. He shuddered at the thought, and that helped him clear his head for a moment. He didn't have a problem with Chekov acting like this, it was just the place. If it were anywhere else, they would seriously be half naked by this point.

" Stop acting like a child!" he hissed at Chekov, trying to keep what little control he still had. He knew Chekov would respond to the comment, and with a little luck, he might be able to hold off taunting Sulu till they got out of this bloody meeting. The end couldn't come soon enough.

Unfortunately, his words came out louder then expected, and the Tran and Ioak representatives turned mid-argument with each other to look at Sulu, assuming he was talking to them. Chekov moved away quickly, trying not to look suspicious and Sulu coloured an attractive shade of red as Spock and Kirk turned to look at them, also.

"Do you have something to add to this debate, Mr Sulu?" Spock asked, raising an eyebrow. For a moment, Sulu floundered like a fish out of water, caught out without any speak-able excuse, the Tran and Ioakian looking at him for a reply. There was no way he could explain that he was taking to Chekov to get him to stop moving his hand further up his thigh.

"Actually, I happen to agree with Sulu" Sulu whipped round to look at his captain quizzically, but Kirk just smiled in a way that told Sulu he knew what he was doing before turning back to face the aliens " you're both behaving like children with all this constant bickering, and obviously as you cannot reach an agreement and will not let us help you, I'm afraid we must withdraw our offer of assistance." Kirk paused to allow the information to sink in before turning to his first officer "Mr Spock, alert Scotty to beam four back up"

" But Captain," the Tran said, standing up and looking distressed, his yellow eyes widening within the green scales of his skin " you said you would help us. We need to stop this war between us. Gaining rights to their land would drastically improve food production so we can feed our people. Surely you do not deny us this?"

" I too agree" the Ioakian interrupted, looking from Kirk to Spock beseechingly, the two having got up out of their chairs to leave. He glared at the Tran momentarily, before remembering his argument. " We need access to the minerals dikironium and tritium for our economic and social rebuilding, and therefore need peace to secure mining rights"

Spock looked at Kirk, but the captain showed little sign of movement. He was waiting for something.

The Tran paused for a moment before sitting back down again " We are willing to talk"

The Ioakian looked at the Tran, as though unsure, before he too sat down " As are we"

Kirk looked at the two as he and Spock sat down again, pulling their chairs closer towards the table and the Vulcan returning his communicator to its normal place. Kirk cast a quick look at Sulu and Chekov, as though trying to figure something out, before sighing. He sensed he really didn't want to know the answer to his question.

" Gentlemen," he said to the representatives, leaning forward with his hands clasped on the table. " I think that's the first sensible thing you've said all day. Now, to business"

*

The meeting could not have ended sooner in Sulus eyes, but thankfully it ended quicker then the first half, with the Ioak and Tran at least taking their first steps of the road to peace. It would be many generations before the two could count themselves as friends, but at least it was a start on the way there. It didn't really stop their disagreements, but one look from Kirk and they quickly quietened into something resembling grudging respect. Even if they weren't happy about it.

Sulu left the room with the feeling that he was again breathing oxygen again after running on a low supply. The world seemed free, less stuffy as he was no longer trapped in that room, and he had a definite idea of what to do with his newfound freedom. Several ideas. Chekov came out after him, looking just as relieved-_and Sulu couldn't help but notice his very tight uniform- had it somehow gotten tighter? -_, and smiled at him with a suggestion. Sulu was definitely going to take the offer.

Kirk turned to look at both of them, considering mentioning what had happened in the meeting, but he decided against it, feeling the atmosphere between the two men. He supposed he owed them one, what with them helping secure the deal between the Ioak and the Tran – in a roundabout way- and with a knowing look he sighed.

" We're going to be transporting back up within the hour, but as this planet has good ...recreation areas. I suggest we take advantage of the fact" he fixed his gaze on his two helm officers trying not to make too obvious- for Spock's sake- what he was offering "why don't you two go off and I'll show Spock round?"

Sulu didn't need to be told twice, his mind already at warp and his body reacting accordingly (and he hoped to God his superior officers hadn't notice this not-too-small detail) and with a thankful nod at Kirk, he grabbed hold of Chekov's hand and pulled him away.

Spock raised an eyebrow as he watched the two walk off rapidly, Sulu almost dragging Chekov away from Kirk and Spock. "Recreation, Captain?"

Kirk shook his head, not wanting to go into the subtext that had been the base of the helm officer's actions throughout the meeting, and not wanting to talk about it with _Spock _of all people. He supposed Chekov and Sulu deserved his silence; he couldn't blame them. If he had had a steady partner who he cared for – both physically and emotionally- as much as his pilot and navigator did for each other, he'd find it hard to keep his head on important matters. " I'll explain when we get back"

*****

Chekov didn't know where Sulu was taking him, but allowed himself to be dragged down the corridor and away from the Captain and Spock, thankful that they were now alone together, something he'd been waiting all day for. Sulu's grip was tight as he led him down another corridor, away from the rest of the building and the offices and ministerial rooms that were contained in it. He knew vaguely where Sulu was leading him; the rooms down here predominantly empty as they were used by night workers, and a perfect place not to be heard.

Sulu pulled Chekov into a room at random, his eyes quickly scanning the room for any occupants as he closed the door with a twist of the handle and a turn of the lock, pulling down the thick coloured blinds that covered the window in the door. He felt some privacy was called for, and even he was a bit uncomfortable with the idea of being caught by some poor unsuspecting worker doing unspeakably intimate things with his partner.

Before Chekov could say anything, he found himself pinned harshly against the wall, their bodies painfully close, and he groaned as he felt Sulu move up against him, the helmsman's lips meshing with his own as he pushed the Russians arms back against the wall as well, pinioning them on either side. Chekov responded greedily, pushing his lips back against Sulu's, bruising his lips with the sudden force of his passion, and Sulu was having trouble controlling his need, his total desire to have Pavel right now, right here. He pulled himself back and Chekov let out a short moan of disappointment that went straight to where it was most unnecessary. Sulu didn't think he could get more aroused, considering he'd sat through the whole meeting with his uncomfortable predicament.

He considered lingering, doing it slowly, making Chekov pay for his suffering, teasing him into teetering on the edge, making Chekov beg, but in his present condition he didn't think he could last that long and by the look on the Russians face, neither could Chekov.

He let go of Chekov's arms, and moved his hands downwards, feeling the heat of Chekov's skin as he attempted to pull the shirt over Pavel's head, wanting to be closer, needing the contact of skin on skin, feeling the heat of the Russians chest and moulding with it, pushing close, their lips devouring each other in a battle for dominance neither was winning, the kisses getting more and more frantic, rapid breathing out of sync with each other.

"Too many layers" he muttered breathily, quickly removing the other undershirts the Russian had on, Chekov doing the same to him, both frantic for the contact. He saw Chekov smile in a way that nearly sent him over the edge, his hair ruffled and eyes glowing with an animalistic passion that he rarely saw.

" I should wear this again then?" Chekov asked, and then moaned as Sulus teeth nipped his neck, sucking the skin, right _there,_ over his pulse, Chekov moving to card his fingers roughly through Sulu's hair. Sulu growled in reply, pushing closer against Chekov, running his hands down over the Russians bare chest, tempting, closer and closer to what he knew they both wanted- needing the passion, the exhilaration, the moment of two people sharing something so deep and so special- his lips meeting again with Chekov as he made his answer quite clear.

Chekov couldn't help thinking that if he got this sort of reaction from Sulu every time he wore this uniform, then he definitely should consider wearing it more often.

_---Thoughts? I have some doubts, so con-crit would be appreciated. _


	5. Sober

_Author Note: I know I hadn't updated this 'story' for a while, and to anyone following this , I'm sorry. Mostly I blame exams and stuff, but I should be able to update more since I'm on my holidays and I've finally saved up for a notebook so I can write Star Trek anywhere :-). Also, I blame completely the awesome **Lyricoloratura **for reviving this fandom for me; when she asked me when I was going to write more Star Trek and I realised I hadn't written any for AGES and that I'd kinda missed it. So thank you to her for giving me the jump start I needed .:-)_

_This drabble was requested by **American Gypsy**_. _Hope you enjoy. Again, if you want to request any drabbles to be expanded, just PM me and I'll see if I can manage it. _

**Sober**

It was a celebration of sorts that started off the drinking in Ten Forward. An Engineering officer by the name of Tellar had been having a small party down in Cargo Bay 3 for his twenty-first birthday , and somehow the cheerful mood of joking and laughter had moved up the ventilation shafts and Jefferies tubes-like an airborne virus designed to affect the brain and its rational- up to the rec room and Ten Forward, catching hold of the crew therein, just in time for a smiling Scotty to stumble in with some dubiously legal bottles of Romulan Ale.

The bridge officers affected were those just off Alpha Shift, who were already drinking and engaging in mundane chatter as they usually did. It was usually a ritual for everyone not on split shifts to go to Ten Forward for at least one drink before retiring to do other things in the free time that they had. Today, Kirk, Bones and Chekov were sharing a table to the far side of the room, Spock and Sulu having left a few minutes before Scotty arrived for the start of Beta shift. The chat that the three were engaged in was that of the kind between friends more than colleagues; Bones starting off on one of his tales of the academy or 'Ole Miss, most of the former starring Kirk at some point, while Jim tried- unsuccessfully- to wheedle information out of Chekov, the Russian steadfastly refusing to tell Kirk who he fancied on board, if he liked anyone at all ( there was no way he was going to mention Sulu to Jim. Not if he didn't want to be a participant of one of the Captain's half baked matchmaking schemes) The atmosphere was comfortable, therapeutically calming after the day they had all had- indeed, when could any day upon the Enterprise be classed as 'quiet'? There had been trade disputes between two factions of the same planetary system, and when the Enterprise had interceded, the arguments became ugly to the point of one of the factions firing upon their ship. Luckily, the shields had held for long enough to calm the fighting down, but having been on tender hooks most of the day, most Alpha crew members felt they deserved a break, which was probably why the alcohol Scotty brought in was so readily followed up by more.

Jim Kirk , like Scotty, was slightly drunk by the time it had gotten to eight pm, standard time, with Chekov and Bones still mostly displaying stone cold sobriety (Scotty having been lured back down to Cargo Bay 3 with the promise of party games and sandwiches). In Chekov's case, this lack of drinking was not intentional. Kirk had offered a drink of replicated Vodka to the Russian earlier on, knowing it to be the synthehol of his preference, but before Chekov had been able to answer, Spock had interrupted, reminding Chekov and Kirk that as the ensign was still seventeen and technically classed underage, he was therefore unable to drink legally.

Chekov had gone a pink color, embarrassed -yet again- to be reminded of his age. He personally had seen no issue with drinking; he was seventeen after all, and although he was several years younger than most of his colleagues, it didn't mean he had never been drunk before. Most people his age had been, disregarding restrictions. Feeling that he should back up his navigator and slightly irritated that Spock couldn't leave out the rules and regulations just once, Kirk gave Spock a filthy glare that would have withered plants that the Vulcan either did not notice or ignored. Bones, who was swilling his drink round the bottom of his glass with a practiced hand, chipped in his piece, telling the Science Officer to "give the kid a break", but with reluctance, seeing that the Vulcan wasn't going to let it drop, The Captain had acquiesced ;but not without giving the comment directed at Spock, that- as commander of the Enterprise- he had thought he had complete control on whether small legal rules should be followed upon his ship. They were in space after all. Spock had merely risen an eyebrow, and they had said nothing more on the subject as Chekov chose to have an orange juice instead- feeling like a child at an adult social event.

Now however, Spock had left for Beta shift and there was nothing to stop Kirk from waving a half-empty bottle of clear Vodka at Chekov in a gesture of offering , his eyes glazed over slightly in the contented mist of tipsiness. For a minute, Jim Kirk looked like an Academy cadet again, out at the weekend and dragging Bones to the various pubs and clubs set up outside Academy grounds to accommodate the student population. He looked carefree and happy to be be so for a few short hours; a few short hours where he could forget that he was responsible for a crew of eight hundred people all looking to him to command and show strength.

"Drink?" He offered to Chekov.

Chekov looked very tempted, and for a moment eyed the drink appreciatively before his expression changed to resignation .He shook his head .

"Nyet. I vould not vant to get you into trouble vith Mr Spock"

"Why? You a lightweight?" Kirk taunted the navigator deliberately , too drunk to care about the dirty look the kid was giving him yet sober enough to know he'd hit a nerve. He knew Chekov wasn't a lightweight- damn Russian could drink both McCoy and Kirk under the table if he chose to, a fact which Kirk considered completely unfair - but he also knew that any reminder of the kids age and less-then-maturity was enough to goad the ensign into having a good time with alcohol. They all deserved a break, and as Sulu was on Beta shift, Chekov couldn't spend time doing the things he'd rather be doing with his best friend. It was common knowledge on the Enterprise that Pavel Chekov and Hikaru Sulu were pretty much inseparable. Asides from having mostly the same shift timetable , they also engaged in free-time activities together. Sulu went running with Chekov in the morning before Alpha shift, they drunk in Ten Forward together, and according to what Kirk had heard vaguely on the grapevine, Sulu was teaching Chekov to fence while Chekov in turn was helping Sulu learn Russian. After the first few months on board , people had just started referring to them as 'Sulu and Chekov' or 'Chekov and Sulu', as one was rarely mentioned in a conversation without the other.

Therefore, since Sulu was on shift, Kirk would have make Chekov have some down time using one of the most reliable of relaxants: Alcohol

"I'm from Russia," Chekov coolly replied to his question, taking the bottle out of Kirks outstretched hand as though it was now a matter of pride for him to at least have some. "Ve were raised on drink"

Bones chuckled at Chekov, the lines around his eyes crinkling as he grinned, before slamming the last of his scotch down the back of his throat as though it was going out of fashion.

"Aye Jim. This one was born with a Vodka bottle in his hands" he said, pouring more from the emptying bottle in front of him.

It was a mocking comment at base level but affectionate in its demeanor, and Chekov knew that little malice was meant by it. He had known Leonard McCoy long enough to not take much of what he said seriously unless he growled what he was saying at him- in which case he responded very quickly to carry out what he had said. It was well known that you didn't mess with the CMO of the Enterprise. Unless you wanted to find dubiously necessary hyposprays finding themselves in various areas of your body.

"OK then Pavel, " Kirk grinned, moving an empty shot glass in front of himself before placing another glass directly in front of the Russian. Taking the bottle back from Chekov, he poured out the transparent liquid, filling up Chekov's glass before he filled his own. "A challenge. Last one down wins"

"You've already drank." Chekov pointed out "I hawe an unfair advantage"

"Well," Kirk smiled,seeming unperturbed and responding by pushing the glass further over in Chekov's direction "Means you've got some catching up to do, doesn't it?"

Chekov raised his eyebrows in a curiously Spock-like manner, as if mulling over Jim's proposal. It wasn't as though he didn't have time for a drink; on the contrary, with Sulu on shift he had an abundance of it, preferring not to go back to his quarters and spend time alone. It occurred to him that this social dependance on Sulu could become quite troublesome, but he consoled himself with the fact that when Sulu was on shift, he could always spend time with the other members of the Enterprise who he had become firm friends with. He'd been firm friends with Uhura since the Academy and he and Scotty had struck up a quick friendship around their mutual appreciation of warp theories , quantum mechanics and engineering- a spare time hobby of Chekov's. Both however, were on shift at the present time, and since he had nothing better to do, Chekov surmised that it couldn't do much harm indulging Jim in his game. The Russian picked up the glass, downing its contents in one with ease, barely wincing as the alcohol burned its way down his throat. He moved quickly to refill and he grinned at Kirk.

"You're on then" Kirk grinned back as they chinked their glasses together, before they both slammed the contents down the back of their throats, one of many more to come.

Bones only looked at the two and groaned, rolling his eyes in mock- exasperation. He knew exactly what happened when Jim Kirk- an immovable object- engaged in a challenge with Pavel Chekov- an unstoppable force.

It was certainly going to be an interesting night.

* * *

When Hikaru Sulu went into Ten Forward several hours later, having finished his shift and passed over command to Ensign Harrity , who was on graveyard shift for the night, he was surprised to find that Chekov, Bones and Kirk were still there, hours after he had left. The hour was late, and he had thought at least Bones would have had the sense to retire early- Jim Kirk knew of no such boundaries where sleep was involved, seeming to be able to run for days at a time on replicated caffeine and adrenaline when the situation called for it. What surprised him even more however, was the fact that they were all completely drunk. It shouldn't have surprised him really; both Bones and Kirk were largely in favor of a glass or two over a conversation, and even Pavel had a history of being able to handle his drink, but the solid fact was that he hadn't expected them to be _that _drunk. He hazarded a guess that a competition of sorts had played part in getting them to the stage they were at, Jim Kirk being the type of person to start up a drinking challenge whatever the hour or whoever the unfortunate victim happened to be. It was interesting that he'd managed to drag Pavel into his schemes, and that the Russian had actually got as drunk as he had. Sulu had first hand knowledge that the younger ensign could drink most of the Enterprise's seasoned drinkers under the table, the helmsman included.

Bones was falling asleep on the table, his eyes fluttering half open and closed as he rested his head upon his arms, moving his head around constantly to try and get comfortable. Every so often , the doctor would raise his head up from it's rest to impart his say in a slurred half-awake voice on whatever conversation was taking place, whether the comment was strictly relevant or not. Sometimes it just turned out to be random garbles of speech, as though Sulu was only hearing selected areas of an otherwise silent conversation. Jim Kirk looked completely legless, a state Sulu had seen him in often enough, and he proved this fact by trying stand up on shaking legs while he jovially sang in a loud and tuneless voice ' I am Henry the Eighth I am", changing the words every so often so that they were generally unsuitable for polite conversation, and promptly swayed and fell over.

Chekov, who was sitting at the table end closest to Sulu, smiling at the proceedings in a blissful drunken way - although he didn't appear as badly drunk as Kirk or Bones, he wasn't far off and Sulu knew there would be a definite hangover when 'morning' ( although technically it was morning already) came- leaned down to where Kirk was collapsed on the ground.

"I zink zhat I haff von, Keptin" he slurred, his accent strengthened by the large amounts of Vodka in his system. He looked pleased, Sulu thought, the grin that usually sat upon his features even more evident. In some ways, the helmsman was secretly glad that Chekov was so relaxed, despite the manner in which he had chosen to do it. A vaguely drunk Chekov was a happy Chekov, the smile on his face unrestricted by the pressures of his job or his seemingly endless desire to be the best he could be at his job. The lifestyle on board a Star ship was not one for the fainthearted, yet Pavel pursued it with a vivacity and determination that people wouldn't have expected. Chekov however, seemed to have a smile on his face most of the time, yet that smile became all encompassing whenever he spent time with Sulu ( although it also worked the other way round when Sulu was with Chekov) or when he was having a good time- whether with drink or not. And Sulu couldn't blame him for that. Not even when he knew the trouble that was coming up trying to get Chekov back to his quarters. The young man was nothing if not stubborn.

"'S'not fair" Kirk was replying to Chekov's statement, his voice even harder to make out as he tried to pull himself up and failed, before he seemed to resign himself to fate and and lay back down."You have… a special liver or sum'ing… yeah… you…you're Russian so…so… your liver has…has…" he appeared to be searching for a word, his face concentrated as though he was considering the most important thing in the world, his brow crinkled in serious thought before his overtaxed brain found the answer. "Your liver has…has… special powers. To stop you being drunk" He looked triumphant as he said this, trying again to get up and failing "Tell him, Bones…tell 'im… tha' his liver has…has…special powers"

"Definitely" Bones grumbled his response , his words muffled by his arms.

"Hik-aroo!" Chekov appeared to have noticed the helmsman walking towards him, his exclamation loud and heartfelt. If Sulu hadn't thought he was drunk before, the fact was definitely was proved now. His face lit up in a magnificent grin, his blue eyes- slightly hazed over - glowing happily, and he swayed slightly on his chair before holding up a near-empty bottle of alcohol to the air, as though to herald Sulu's return.

"'o is it?" Kirk grumbled, getting hold of the edge of the table in an effort to pull himself up, peering over at Sulu with a mystified expression as though trying to place him before his confusion quickly cleared. "Oh," he said with a sly look that Sulu immediately didn't like the look of. He knew the captain was going to say something, something that would make either Sulu or Chekov go red with embarrassment. "it's your boyfriend Pavel"

Sulu immediately colored- _Kirk couldn't possibly have guessed he liked Chekov, could he?- _and swore internally, but Chekov didn't look phased, probably because the drink had completely wiped out any of the social inhibitions he may have had when he was sober.

"He's not my boyfriend" Chekov said matter-of-factly as though Kirk's comment hadn't bothered him, and Sulu tried not to be hurt by his cavalier attitude. _Well, it's true_, he told himself. _He's not your boyfriend, no matter what your jealous little mind mind think. _That fact at least was true. Sulu had found out early on in the Enterprise's five year mission that he really had an issue with people paying undue romantic attentions to Chekov, whether it was reciprocated by the Russian or not. He had tried to pass it off as protectiveness; Chekov was seventeen in a world of adults, he could be used or hurt ( something which _really _would piss Sulu off), yet he knew that it was just the unfortunate fact that Hikaru Sulu was attracted to his helm partner, something which made life quite awkward at times. Even though Chekov had never paid him the least bit of attention romantically ( either that or Chekov was very good at hiding it, something Sulu doubted; the young Russian usually wore his heart on his gold sleeves), it didn't stop him wanting it all the same. "Not yet"

That end comment made Sulu freeze for a second, as his mind went into immediate warp, trying to figure out whether Chekov had said what he hoped- "not yet"- or what he mostly likely said - just a misheard "Nyet", Pavel's Russian mangled by alcohol slurred words.

"Come on, Pav," he decided to say, forcing his mouth to move to say something sensible and necessary, instead of what he actually wanted to say, wanting to ask Chekov outright what he meant, to know for sure, before he told himself not to be stupid- _He isn't interested in you, stop hoping that he is-_, even when his mind was feverishly considering it. _What if I'm wrong though? What if he does? What then? _"I think its time for you to get to bed"

"O' yeah?" Jim Kirk had raised his eyebrows in a wicked grin as he looked over at Sulu, which would have made a right picture if he wasn't leaning slightly to the left like a tilting weeble. "And _what_ are you goin' to do when you're in bed?"

Sulu ignored Kirk's lewd remark with some effort- the Captain was such a child sometimes- and responded only by giving the captain a quick glare, before he moved over to Chekov, taking hold of his arm with a gentle grip.

"Come on," he repeated with some degree of firmness that spoke of a man used to dealing with people under the influence of alcoholic beverages. He'd seen Chekov drunk before, despite the fact it was a relatively rare occurrence, even in their Academy days. It had usually been Chekov taking Sulu home after a night out in those days, and he supposed now it was only fair to return the favor for all the times Chekov had helped Sulu into bed, while he had been left with only the sofa to sleep on. "You've got Alpha shift tomorrow. If we go now, you'll have a smaller hangover when you wake up"

"But..'a don't wanna go," Chekov said, half pouting in a childish manner as Sulu helped him up, catching his weight when he stumbled over his feet as he was attempting to point out Bones and Kirk with a jerky motion of his hand "I wan' to stay vith these guys". Kirk happily nodded his head, signaling that he also thought Chekov should stay, but Sulu was having none of it as he pulled Chekov to his feet. He was tired, verging on grumpiness and his bed was calling to him. Even his everlasting patience around Pavel couldn't last forever. He was getting the Russian to bed come hell or high water.

"Let's go, Pav" He said, coaxing Chekov away from the table littered with glasses and empty drink bottles with the air of dealing with a young child. If Chekov was sober now, he would be glaring at Sulu for treating him in that manner, but fortunately he was so far gone that Sulu suspected he wouldn't remember much in the morning. The attitude seemed to do the trick, and although Chekov pouted and looked sad for a moment, his mood quickly changed as he waved a goodbye over to Bones and Kirk,with a wide grin, to which they waved back in varying degrees of enthusiasm- Kirk with equal vigor and Bones with a mere despondent wave.

Finally, Sulu managed to get Chekov out of Ten-forward, propping the unsteady ensign up as they half walked half shuffled along the quiet carpeted corridors, most of the crew either on shift or asleep, the latter being a state Sulu would have liked to join.

"Are you unhappy 'Karu?"

Chekov's semi-lucid question made Sulu smile as he turned his head to look at his friend. Even drunk , the Russian seemed to care considerably about other people's feelings, something which always made Sulu grin. Chekov looked back intently yet with the blue eyed dazed look he was expecting, but his face was crinkled in a frown as though deep in thought.

"No Pav," he replied with a gentle smile "I'm not unhappy"

"Are you sure?" Chekov continued, and Sulu saw this wouldn't be dropped quickly. Chekov was nothing if not stubborn, but his usual on-the-dot perceptions must have been a bit out of skew for him to be asking "because you look a bit... you know, sorta down, like this," Pavel pulled a face, pouting his bottom lip out in an attempt at looking sad, scrunching his eyes up in a funny way that Sulu knew was meant look like he was about to cry, but instead resembled a squinting man without his glasses. It was hard not to giggle slightly because Chekov making faces always seemed to make him laugh, but Sulu managed to reign in his laughter to act more seriously. Chekov, in his drunken state, clearly looked a bit concerned.

"I'm ok, honestly. I'm just a bit tired"

"Oh." Chekov's frown cleared slightly and he smiled lopsidedly "Tha's good. I don't like to see you unhappy"

"That's nice, Pavel" Sulu replied, adjusting Chekov's arm- which at present was flung around his shoulder- trying to figure out where on the ship they were. He hadn't really been paying attention but from the comm stations along the wall, each imprinted with the level they were on along with their own unique number. From the fact they were obviously on the 'D' level, Sulu guessed he wasn't far off his and Chekov's quarters.

"It makes me sad vhen you're unhappy" Chekov went on, clearly well into the stage of drunken rambling by now. He had no filter when he was under the influence, and Sulu was glad Chekov wouldn't remember much of this when he woke up. The Russian usually got quite embarrassed about what he had said, even when it was nothing really. As far as Sulu was concerned, most people rambled when they were drunk. Sulu clearly remembered talking to Chekov for nearly an hour once about the intricate details of the plants he was growing on a night out at the Academy. "I feel like I'm unhappy too"

"Well, I'm not unhappy at the moment, so it's ok." Sulu smiled at Chekov for a second. The Russian always seemed to want people to be happy, going to lengths to try and make them so, even when drunk . Maybe that was what he liked about Pavel. The fact that he was always just 'Pavel' , no one else, and that he never changed. As drunks went, Chekov was one of the better ones. He didn't hit on people he really shouldn't ( something which soothed Sulu's jealous tendencies), he didn't get violent, he was just...Chekov, only in a slightly more concentrated quantity.

"Does zhat mean that you are happy zhen ?"

"Yeah, I suppose" They were approaching Chekov's quarters now, much to Sulu's relief, and he was so glad he already knew the pass code for the ensign's room. Living next door to his best friend was one of the better parts of living on the Enterprise, and Chekov and Sulu made a habit of moving in between the two rooms to borrow items or just to spend time together through an interconnecting door protected by Chekov's pass code. Sulu assumed that at this point it would have been a small nightmare getting the nine-digit code out of Chekov if he hadn't known it already.

"Tha's good" Chekov seemed quite content with this idea, a smile falling across his face as his eyes began to close with tiredness. After a while, alcohol just made Chekov sleepy, which made it harder to carry the Russian. It was making Sulu long for his own bed just looking at him. "I like it vhen you're happy" His head was beginning to loll onto Sulu's shoulder as the helmsman used his free hand to key in the password , the door opening with a quiet 'swoosh' before them. "I vant to make you happy"

Sulu almost stopped , confused by what the Russian had said. He clearly was drunk and Sulu could just pass what he said off as the inane ramblings of the inebriated, yet even when completely intoxicated Chekov could still make a degree of sense. Sulu couldn't think of the connotations to what Chekov was saying now, his energies focused entirely on getting Chekov to bed- not in the way he ultimately wanted, but he couldn't have everything in life. He managed to dump the Russian unceremoniously onto the bed,the lights having turned on automatically, before carefully pulling off the Russian's shoes and socks. He tried not to think about how he was undressing his best friend as he pulled off Chekov's golden overshirt and black undershirt, leaving smooth pale skin underneath. If Chekov remembered this in the morning, it would certainly make things uncomfortable for a while. On the plus side, Chekov didn't seem to be complaining or making any comment, simply lying on his back half asleep with all the general movement of a sloth. Knowing that he'd probably gone an interesting pink color by now, Sulu awkwardly dragged Chekov's trousers off, glad that Chekov always wore boxers. It definitely would be embarrassing if that wasn't the case. Although the warped and perverted side of Sulu's side wouldn't complain much.

"Vhat 're you doing?" Chekov mumbled as Sulu tried to maneuver his mostly unresponsive body under the covers, 'maneuvering' mostly compromising of pulling and half carrying his helm partner. Despite the fact that Chekov was pretty light in weight terms, it was a challenging task, and Sulu felt a degree of guilt for all the times Chekov must have done this for him- Sulu being heavier , regardless of his litheness.

"Getting you into bed"

Chekov laughed slightly, a tired little giggle that made Sulu shake his head affectionately. "Alvays vanted you to say zhat"

"Oh really?" Sulu raised an eyebrow, assuming a lighthearted drunken comment. Chekov would never really mean that.

"Uh-huh" Chekov smiled slightly as he turned his head into his pillow "Vould newer tell you though"

"Tell me what, Pav?"

"That I..." Chekov yawned as Sulu succeeded in getting him under the duvet, tucking him in and pulling up the covers as one would a child "...I like you, bu' I can't tell you, 'cause of...you know"

"Because of what?" Sulu pressed slightly, his throat suddenly dry and his heart seemingly louder in his ears. He couldn't really be hearing this, Chekov couldn't really be saying this, but for the moment, he just wanted this hope last longer. Because what if it was actually happening, what if Chekov did actually like him?

"Me being too young, n' all that. An' you're a lieutenant an' I'm jus' an ensign, an' you vouldn't want to be with me. You vouldn't like me like I like you" Chekov was frowning slightly as he snuggled into his pillow, his eyelids closed with the intention of sleeping.

Sulu was left sitting on the bed, his mind whirring. He didn't know how he could respond to this, so he just followed instinct and stretched his hand out to move some of Chekov's curly hair out of his eyes. This seemed to get rid of the Russian's frown, and Sulu ignored his cynical mind telling him that this could never last, that he should just get away now, and gentle stroked Chekov's hair, affectionately carding his fingers through the curls.

"What do you like about me, Pav?" he whispered, needing to ask now while he had the chance. It was completely taking the advantage of the situation, but Sulu couldn't really muster up the effort to feel guilty about it. He wanted to know, needed to know.

"Your hair," Chekov mumbled, tiredness coloring his words " an' your eyes. Zhey're nice" . He muttered a few more phrases that had moved from Standard to Russian so that Sulu would need a translator to work half of it out. Sulu may have known some Russian thanks to Chekov, but it was only the rudimentary basics, and the way Chekov was speaking it made it hard to understand. The Russian scrunched his eyes up slightly against the light in the room ."'m tired now, 'Karu"

Sulu smiled down at his friend, knowing he wouldn't get much more out of him. It was enough that he knew, although how he was going to act now was a different challenge altogether. "Go to sleep then Pav" he said quietly, stroking his hair again gently. He could sense the Russian moving further and further into the realm of sleep, and- on a whim of impulsiveness and affection- he pressed a small kiss on Chekov's head, glad the Russian wouldn't remember this in the morning.

"I like you too Pavel." he whispered as he moved to leave the room, satisfied that Chekov was settled for the night "More than you know"

* * *

"Oh, God," were the first words out of Pavel Chekov's mouth as he half walked, half stumbled over to his post for the bright early start of Alpha shift. Chekov was usually a morning person, unlike Sulu, getting up earlier than most to go for a run, but today seemed to be an exception. He looked over at Sulu, grimacing and putting a hand to his head as though he had a headache. The hangover must have kicked in, Sulu considered with a wry smile. "I must haff bin so drunk last night. I can't even remember half of it. I svear, I'll newer touch another drop "

Sulu laughed as he looked over his friend, taking in the bleary eyes and an expression which told him of the few hours sleep he'd got and of the too-early in the morning start. He dug an aspirin out of his pocket, having anticipated Chekov's hangover. It would be just criminal if the Russian had managed to consume that amount of alcohol with no adverse side effects , although Sulu wouldn't put it past Chekov. "I'll believe that when I see it" He said, passing Chekov the pill, which the Russian thanked him for, then proceeding to swallow the small tablet without water. Sulu paused for a moment, wondering how to put what he wanted to say. "You really don't remember last night? What you said?"

"Nothing , after Kirk started singing his favourite country and vestern songs. I vaguely remember him beginning to sing 'Jolene' but after that it's a bit of a blur" Chekov said with a grin, before his expression turned slightly horrified as he took in what words Sulu had spoken. He looked extremely worried. "Vhy? Vhat did I say?" He seemed genuinely concerned "Please tell me it wasn't anything bad"

_Quite the opposite, _Sulu thought, but decided against saying that. Part of him wanted to tell Chekov what he had said last night in his drunken ramblings, but he was afraid of embarrassing the teenager and frightening him off. If _he _had said that when drunk, despite it being true he would have vehemently denied it upon questioning. Worse still, in Sulu's mind Chekov might just have been rambling anything- he was drunk after all - and Sulu didn't think he could cope with the outward disappointment. There was no way he could ask Chekov about what he had said without revealing his own feelings, and he didn't want to lose Chekov's friendship over one possible misunderstanding. But now he _knew _that there was a possibility of Chekov liking him, he could act accordingly.

"Not really" he lied, grinning when he saw the relief clear on Chekov's face. _He wouldn't be that relieved if he didn't have something to hide that he didn't want to tell you, _his mind thought hopefully, but Sulu shut it up. "Well, you declared your undying love to Commander Spock while I was taking you back to your quarters, but apart from that nothing"

"I did not" Chekov didn't know whether to look panicked or roll his eyes at Sulu's joke. Sulu often teased Chekov after he'd been drunk, and he had decided that he'd continue the tradition this time.

"Definitely looked like that from where I was standing." Sulu went on with a grin "He took it well , I thought"

"How well?" Chekov's eyes narrowed ,unsure- knowing it was a joke but biting anyway. He knew Sulu was one for joking, and although neither took it very seriously, Chekov always ended up asking anyway simply to see what Sulu would say.

"Well, you're having dinner tonight. Seven standard time, his quarters"

"You're a total liar" Chekov laughed, his face lighting up with a wide grin that made his eyes glow.

Sulu laughed with him, deciding that now was a good a time as any to make his move. It would take time to be able to admit his feelings to Chekov but if there was any chance that he had some hope with the Russian he was willing to take the gamble.

"Tell you what," he said smoothly, as though it had just occurred to him "Why don't you, instead of going to an apparently unwanted dinner with the Commander, sneak off and come to the movies with me? There's some good one's on in the rec room tonight,old 20th century ones, double feature. If you'll sit through one of my sappy romantic ones, I promise I'll sit through the horror ones you always like"

"You couldn't make it through a horror film" Chekov replied immediately , although Sulu noticed a light had appeared in the Russian's cornflower eyes at the idea of going to the movies with Sulu.

"I could so" Sulu shot back.

"You'd be a bubbling emotional wreck by the time the girly film finished, never mind sitting through a two hour adrenaline rush" Chekov smiled, referring to the last time they'd all gone to the movies. The two of them had gone with Uhura and Scotty last week to the romance/action double feature and Sulu and Uhura had ended up sharing a box of tissues at the end of the first film, while Scotty and Chekov just looked at each other with a look of resignation and waited for the next feature- _Die Hard- _to start, discussing in detail whether it was Bruce Willis's best film. A wide knowledge of twentieth and twenty-first century films was something else that Scotty and Chekov had in common

"Hey , Titanicwas a really sad. And I resent the term 'girly film'. Anyway Uhura was crying too" Sulu tried to defend himself for his reaction , even though he knew exactly what he was like with soppy romantic films. The two had never gone to a romantic film with just each other, usually with Uhura and on odd occasions Chapel and Scotty, but Sulu inevitably got teary towards the end of the film, which was usually ok when Chapel or Uhura was there because then he wasn't the only one crying at '_When Harry Met Sally_' or '_Sleepless in Seattle_' . Chekov just usually shook his head at those times in mock admonition and passed Sulu another tissue. " I'll be fine this time. It's only that twenty-second century romance, you know , _'Lovestruck on Jupiter?' _"

"All right . I'll hold you to that" Chekov raised his eyebrows slightly as though he didn't believe a word of what Sulu said, but he grinned anyway "Seven tonight,then?"

"It's a date." Sulu acknowledged with a smile, and out of the corner of his eye he watched as Chekov's grin got inexplicably wider, and how his eyes lit up even more at the mention of the meeting being 'a date'. It made Sulu a little bit more hopeful, knowing that Chekov was quite obvious when it came to his emotions. If Chekov was this happy at the prospect of a sort-of date, it could only mean things were good.

Sulu grinned to himself as he settled down at his post, checking his monitor over while thinking of tonight. Somehow he had a feeling today would be a very good day.

* * *

_A/N: This turned out drastically different from what I had planned, so if it is god-awful , please tell me. For anyone who has comments about the portrayal of drunk people, I'm only going off experiences I've had with people who have been drunk , so if I've got some things wrong, sorry. _


	6. Token

_Author Note: Drabble #115, requested by Lana Mush. Sorry this has taken so long =]_

_Warnings: General Angst, non-cannon character death. _

_Chapter 6: TOKEN. It's such an insignificant item that Chekov risked his life for, but it means so much to the Russian that Bones doesn't have the heart to be mad. _

* * *

Token

It seemed as though the whole world was on fire in a mere instant. Sudden and glaring , the shades of red and yellow illuminating everything, invading all in sight, taking over from the usual tones of chemical white and grey. For a few dazzling moments Leonard McCoy was blinded by the overheard alarms and flashing warning lights, smoke stinging his eyes and choking his throat. Spots of light danced in his vision as he was confronted by the alien landscape of his own ship. The heat distracted his skin, made him want to shy away, his automatic human signals going haywire, telling him to get out of there and not to look back. It was as though he was back all those years ago, when the _Enterprise_ had first started her impromptu voyage , heading straight into a trap and nearly being blown into pieces by an angered Romulan. The feeling of helplessness he had felt then, of not knowing what to do, not feeling in control, was the same then as it was now; but that was the risk of taking this job. The _Enterprise's _mission was to seek out new life and new civilisations, and that included all the dangers that came with it. Bones may not have been Space's biggest fan, but the feeling of helping people, of making a difference, made up for any of the negative imaginings he had about working aboard a starship.

Of course, he had had worse experiences than the _Narada_, although not many, and in the close to four years they'd been in space he must have lived through so many assaults on the ship- where photon blasts rocked the hull and made everyone feel space sick as well as quietly terrified- but the _Narada _marked his first experience of the sheer panic that sudden conflict with a hostile force always seemed to be. Although he would never have considered himself naïve ( his age proved that point devoid, and with a steady job as a doctor and a failed marriage under his belt before he even went into space, he thought he could count himself a little bit more world-wise than he had been in his younger years), in terms of his job aboard this ship, he'd had to grow up fast. Dr. Puri's death on deck seven had thrust him into medical command without any choice, and he had to understand very fast that he needed to keep his head on, because he would be the one everyone look to for guidance. He recalled little of those first few moments after entering Vulcan space apart from barking orders, the red of blood and the shouts from those injured.

And then the world rocked again, nearly knocking him off balance and he shook himself out of his daydreams. Judging by the way the ship had shuddered and baulked to the right, he suspected strongly that they had been hit again- shots from the gunship of some angry aliens who _really _didn't seem to like a Federation ship in their sector. Angry and possessed of a good aim, it seemed. McCoy just hoped Jim could get them to reach an agreement that didn't involve the Enterprise being completely destroyed . Otherwise surviving might be a bit of problem. He'd rather live if he was honest.

The ship jolted again- was that god-damned pilot deliberately trying to get _every _one of the photon torpedoes to hit them?- and McCoy stumbled as he moved quickly down Deck Four. The most damage appeared to be on this deck, and he saw the smoke first as he made his way into the area, before he saw the destruction in front of him.

Collapsed segments of ship, red-alert silenced now but still bathing the deck in a crimson light that whirred and blinked distractingly. Several of the quarters along the corridor were smoking through the gaps in the door, suggesting at a fire inside, and one empty room to his left obviously had an affected cable in the door or something, as it dragged itself opened , revealing a burning interior before closing again. And Bones damned the fact that in a ship made of metal, the fire still found things to feed on.

He could deal with this, he told himself. He was a doctor.

Up ahead he sighted a crewman trapped under what looked like one of pieces of wall that had been blown off, falling to the floor and pinning down the man. Someone was trying to help pull the wall segment off the terrified crewman, who was wriggling with the upper half of his body, panicking the longer he was trapped, but the weight was obviously too heavy for just one pair of hands.

Chekov, from his place behind McCoy, having been drafted into helping in anyway he could (not that he had needed to be asked; after serving four years aboard, most of the crew just seemed to instinctively know what to do without asking, each having their own positions and adding strength to another when it looked as though it was struggling) , moved immediately around Bones and over to aid the officer endeavouring to lift the wreckage, the frightened crewman's face reddening with heat and exertion to match his hair shade, his grip on the scratching edges of the wall piece from where it had been torn asunder from its position loosening with the sweaty hold he had. The Russian spoke authoritatively but kindly to the man- who McCoy thought was Ensign Carter, if he remembered rightly from his medical rounds, all flaming red hair and with a stutter when he got nervous. The doctor could hear him trying to get some words out, and could practically see the dashes slicing up portions of his speech, repeating sections of words and groups of consonants in a way that would grate on Bones's frazzled nerves if he had to listen to it for long. But it appeared as though thankfully Chekov was doing fine calming Carter down, holding his own fears in check as he instructed what they were going to do to get the section off the other man's legs.

"You hurt?" Crouching down beside the trapped man- Bones said 'man' in a general way; traditional humans didn't usually have three eyes and small tusk-like mandibles. The doctor ran his scanner over what part of the body was protruding from out of the sandwich of the wall and the floor, skimming readings to deduce what he needed, the whirring of his machinery calming him. He could do this bit, was confident he could do this. It was just the rest of his surroundings that was subject to change.

"J-just stuck. " the crewman replied in a shaky tone, looking pale and sweaty. He had stopped struggling, and McCoy was sure if there was any serious injury, his scanner would have picked up on it, even if the man didn't admit to it. He gave a short staccato bark of laughter "Hot isn't it?" He seemed to be verging near hysteria.

It was only the legs that were trapped, so Bones could rule out any internal bleeding from the torso area, and it didn't seem as though he'd hit his head. McCoy had to agree with him as he stowed his scanner back in its holster, it _was _hot on this deck. Temperature control had been messed up by the shots, and engineering probably had more on their plate to deal with than just faulty heating. Bones was out of touch with the bridge for the moment, so he couldn't tell whether any of the primary functions had been affected; life support, warp drive, etc. He hated not knowing.

"Those quarters empty?" he asked the red head- Carter-, the strictness of his voice making the crewman jump.

"Y-y-yess sir. No-one's in t-t-them." The kid looked more terrified by the fact the doctor had spoken to him than anything else that was going on around him. Bones should have cut him a bit more slack; the lad had only been on-board a few weeks, fresh faced from the Academy and wet behind the ears. He'd probably only witnessed this sort of situation in simulation, or in tales he'd heard as a new cadet from the maturer students. Bones bet he hadn't realised space could be this dangerous until now.

"OK, Daniel," McCoy heard Chekov's voice slow and clear, his face bathed in an eerie red light but displaying a comforting expression, which seemed to do the job of coaxing Carter out of his panic. "We're gonna pick this thing up off Josephs ok? You pull up from that side, I'll do this side, right? On the count of three. One...two...three"

Their hands grasped the end of the wall nearer Carter, straining against the weight . It didn't seem as though it would budge for a frightful second, then slowly it pivoted up under the combined pressure both were putting on it, raising the end enough off the ground for McCoy to be able to pull the crewman- Josephs- out from under it by his arms. Another blast pounded the ship violently, and the two lost their hold as they stumbled on their feet, trying to gain equilibrium, the slab of wall slamming down hard where Josephs would have been seconds ago,with a thud and a small cloud of dust.

There was an explosion to the right where one of the blasts must have detonated against the side of this deck, and Carter swore- a word miraculously stutter-free. Pulling Josephs to his feet with firm hands and giving the freed man another quick once-over with his scanner, Bones derived that there didn't seem any real damage, nothing broken that his scanner could detect- but that it was worth getting the man's right foot checked out in the medbay, just in case he'd sprained anything. He seemed to be leaning predominantly on the other leg as he stood, the right foot raised gingerly so as not in contact with the ground.

"Jim?" he clicked his comm badge, needing to know what was happening. It looked like there was a lull in firing after the last one, but Bones's internal cynic supposed that they were probably just reloading another volley to blast them out of the sky. They appeared mean enough; ugly things with bodies baring a striking resemblance to a humanoid creature made of melting plasticine, their arms and legs long and contorted, faces long and pointed at the bottom with their skin the texture of smooth black plastic. Bones was pretty sure that if you were close enough, the sheen of their skin/flesh/whatever would act like some sort of mirror. "Jim, how're things going?"

The reply came back crackly and broken up, but with effort Bones could understand what was being said "We've managed to get them to stop shooting at us," It was Jim speaking, yet his voice was strange due to the poor level of transmission; growling in snippets of sound that had to be pieced together for a translation into Standard. "They seem to like Spock more than me, so he's talking to them. I think we've done it though"

"How bad's the damage?"

"Other decks have been hit but its just minor stuff. Deck four's the worst hit; the deck you're on. I'm reading..." there was a short pause as Kirk checked the equipment "...four life signs on the deck? We've gotten everybody out of there and relocated them to where they're needed."

"All accounted for ," Bones put the captain's quiet worry at ease; that someone was missing that they hadn't found yet.

"I'm on my way now to give you a hand."

"'Should be ok, Jim" Bones assured him "I'm just taking Josephs to the medbay with Carter and Chekov" He glanced round at the small group of people he had assembled; Josephs leaning heavily on McCoy, Carter looking lost with soot dusting his skin. And then he realised what he was missing.

"Shit..." he expelled the word, not directing his comment at Jim but just to himself. He flicked his gaze around again, just to be sure. He then travelled his gaze past the two men with him, searching the littered corridor before him, the light distracting and disguising anything he might be looking for. "Better get down here anyway ,Jim. Might be a small problem"

Turning off his comm, McCoy rounded onto Carter "Where's Chekov?" Seeing the crewman's sudden confusion, the shocked panicked eyes of a man that didn't stand up well to interrogation, the doctor continued, his voice getting louder " Chekov? He was just with you. Where is he?"

The man, terrified at being practically shouted at by the doctor, threw his arm out with little grace, pointing a finger in the general direction of one of the rooms along the fire damaged corridor. McCoy guessed , following the line of sight originating from the tip of Carter's shaking finger, that he meant the quarters he was highlighting. An inconspicuous door, number 14 D on this level.

Chekov's own quarters.

Bones cursed.

"You." He whirled back to Carter, and the man practically died of fright "Take Josephs to the med bay. Tell Chapel... are you listening, tell Chapel to give his right foot a look" Carter nodded, looking pleased to have some orders about what he should be doing, and moved to the other side of Josephs- the other crewman wrapping an arm around his shoulder and transferring his weight to Carter's side.

"Get yourself off this deck" Bones said sharply to the two men, and they manoeuvred themselves quickly back along the corridor, avoiding debris on the floor. Seeming to be following Chekov's example, Carter was talking to Jospehs in a low encouraging voice as they moved, his stutter lessening the more confidence he gained. Bones took the time to consider that the kid would be a good officer in time, but it wasn't the sort of thing he really had on his mind at the moment. He turned and half walked, half ran to toward the room further down the corridor, the room Carter had pointed out. _Stupid, stupid, stupid kid, _his mind growled.

"Pavel!" He shouted "Pavel!"

Bones cursed again, his language getting more prolific the more he thought about the fact he'd probably have to enter that damn room himself to drag that bloody kid out by the collar of his uniform. The rest of him wondered why Chekov had gone back in the first place. This deck was dangerous, and the Russian had been present when Kirk gave specific instructions to the doctor about getting everyone off deck four, checking all personnel were relocated and accounted for before sealing off the deck so the fires could be contained until engineering managed to fix the system that controlled fire-safety, put out of action due to the photon blast aimed the secondary hull defence grid. Chekov had been there, so why was he disregarding his own safety to return to his rooms?

The room door was unlocked, yet as Bones came up to it with the knowledge solidly in his mind that it would open before him with the usual 'swoosh', the motion of the door did not live up to his expectations. It jutted apart by a crack, the system operating at a lower parameter- whether due to damage or an engineering fault the doctor could not tell at this time- sliding opening slowly and inelegantly, sticking and grinding as it tried to perform its function regardless . It halted partway through its usual trajectory, whirring before seemingly giving up, and McCoy had to pull and push at the doors in order to give them the incentive to widen enough to let him through, wedging his body through the two sides and forcing them with his back and arms to at least allow a distance that he could at least squeeze past. That done, he moved into the room, immediately wishing he'd stayed out in the construction site of the corridor.

Smoke, in a higher quantity than there had been outside , assailed his nostrils with a fuggy atmosphere, and he was forced to cover his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his uniform, eyes streaming. There was fire in here as well, as there was in quite a few of the quarters that he had seen through half-closed doors, but the real danger here was the smoke; thick and vicious and choking .

"Pavel?" he shouted again, trying not to baulk at the smoke that he breathed in. He failed in that respect, and hacked out a cough and wiped his eyes free from moisture before casting his gaze around again.

He travelled further into the room by a few quick steps, wanting to be out of here with Pavel as soon as possible, sighting the fire that had begun to envelope from the room next door, greedily eating as much as it could before they got the fire prevention systems back in and the sprinklers on. But for now the fire was a natural enemy, burning contently with all the oxygen the still-functioning life support provided. And there was still no sign of the Russian.

And then there he was. Lying on the floor by the bed, a pale figurine of a man, with his brown hair marred by the black hand of could have been asleep for a second, so still he appeared, but then Bones remembered that that shit didn't happen in real life, didn't exist in the real world like it would in a harmless bloodless children's story. Life happened, people got hurt. This wasn't the perfect capturing of a still photograph, with the danger of the background blurred into insignificance with Pavel as the focus. No, now Bones could see that Chekov was ok, the photo moving weakly, but still moving. His legs curled up, foetal, his frame shaking with dilapidating coughs, racking and rasping like he was trying to gag, asphyxiating on vicious smoke, fighting for possession of his body with a malevolent spirit of charcoal darkness.

"Pavel" There was relief in Bones's repetition of the lieutenants name, but he wouldn't admit to it. He was a doctor now, not a friend. He had to keep his head when all he really wanted to do was shake Pavel and worry over him. He had to think about the here-and-now, when the shaking man near him was so trapped it seemed in the then-and-there, lashes fluttering disjointedly as he breathed in poison , body rejecting it with deep tactless notes – yet his eyes were blank and soulless, staring unseeing with a blue insistence to some image that the doctor could not be privy to.

Bones rushed to his side, dropping down to one knee to quickly check his pulse, thanking any god that he was still breathing. A weak lifeline, but still there. But the most distressing thing he observed this close was that the lieutenant before him wasn't fighting. Wasn't forcing his drained energy into trying to escape, wasn't even pushing his useless limbs into giving any protection over his mouth. His eyes were watery with tears from the smoke, and the image was so sad and feeble that Bones was even more determined to do something about it, to keep this man living and fighting and breathing because Pavel Chekov looked so accepting of his own mortality. The officer who along with the rest of them didn't know the meaning of failure, fought against its form and definition with every stoic act, every brave move. The doctor had seen him fight tooth and claw for the protection of his friends, his ship; wild and unyielding and loyal with his refusal to give in, the man who was now making barely considering that he should take the same interest in his own preservation.

And that made Bones all the more resolute that he'd have to do the damn job himself. Care about a fellow officer – his friend over these years – when the man wouldn't or couldn't.

_Jesus Pavel, why'd you have to be so reckless? , _he thought internally, but there was no malice in his thoughts, his actions on autopilot. Check respiration, run over with scanner. These two tasks were quickly achieved due to practice and natural skill. His priority now was to get the kid out; away from the fire and the smoke and the apathy that covered the man in a cold cloak of immobility and blankness of thought.

"Bones!" he heard a shout from behind him, an alien voice in a landscape of grey and crackling cinnabar flames , turning to see Jim pushing through the gap in the door, making his way over to the doctor, hand over his mouth. He had his "captain-voice" on; the serious one, that Bones had once joked to Jim made him sound like those serious instructors he'd defied at the academy, full of their own importance in the world. It had been a joke of course, not meant, and nobody was laughing now. Because when Jim changed from Jim to Kirk, Bones knew he was in safe hands. And he'd never admit it to the kid (his damn ego didn't need inflating any more) but that was sometimes the reassurance he needed. The knowledge that he wasn't on his own in this. "What happened?"

He was probing for answers, and Bones wanted to reply. Wanted to tell Jim/Kirk about how Pavel was just lying there choking like a swimmer going further away from the shore, reckless but damn well knowing what he was doing. He wanted to tell Jim/Kirk – the captain/the friend who would care regardless of which persona he was because Chekov was one of his crew, one of his own, and Kirk protected him and his – about the blank look and the sad eyes and how his eyes reacting to the smoke by watering looked like tears, but he couldn't explain it. Knew that if he spoke it, words wouldn't be able to put across what he was seeing. So Bones shook his head, "Let's get everyone out of the deck first, yeah?" he replied instead, and Jim nodded.

"Carter and Josephs have made their way to the med bay, the rest of the crew are all accounted for and off this deck"

"Good" Bones gave a succinct reply, and with effort, hoisted Chekov up over his shoulder, his body complaining that it wasn't as young as it used to be. He had done this sort of thing when he was a boy, passing out fireman's lifts to his younger brother, who squealed and giggled and hollered 'Put me down!' until Bones (Lenny then) took pity. When he had been older, he had done it to Joanna and she had screamed and laughed just the same as his brothers, with that half fear of being dropped and half happiness and exhilaration if Bones added the extra move of spinning round that was the realm of children. Pavel, being neither a brother or a child of his, followed neither expectation, just lolled, small shakes trailing down his torso in a wave of coughing that Bones could feel through his back. Luckily though, the Russian was light, and the weight was not much of a burden. With Jim's help, the two of them managed to push the gap in the door opened further to allow the doctor and his charge passage, wasting no time on congratulations once they had cleared the small obstacle.

"Turbo lift working?" Bones asked, adjusting Chekov's position over his shoulder.

"Spock said there was no damage to the lift shaft. It's not been hit by anything" Jim replied, and Bones took that as captain speak for 'Yes'. He nodded briskly as a reply, and the two of them swiftly made their way to the lift, Kirk stabbing the button with his finger.

The smoke seemed to be getting worse , and the short wait for the lift was interrupted by the coughing and spluttering from Bones and Kirk, Chekov having fallen too quiet for Bones's liking. When the lift finally arrived, and opened its doors with the same smooth unruffled elegance it always did (Bones was beginning to see why Jim and Scotty got so protective over the ship; it was a real lady, and Bones treated it as such – although only when no-one else was around.) the two practically fell into it, the doors shutting out the fumes behind them.

"Med bay" Jim barked, and it was lucky that the computer was automated, Bones thought, just in case it might have taken offence to his tone. You had to treat a lady politely, but there was a time and a place for such things.

Jim flipped his comm "Spock? Status?"

"Our attackers have been persuaded to desist in their efforts." The reply came back clearer than before "Engineering is beginning work now to make sure that we are able to safely achieve warp . There was no direct damage to the warp nacelles, but some of the grills on the right side of the magnatomic flux construction..."

"Thank you Spock" There was a smile in Kirk's voice, as there always was whenever Spock went into "over-detailed hobgoblin" mode. "Myself, Bones and Chekov are on our way to the med-bay now to get checked out by our good doctor" He gave a small grin to Bones "So long as he doesn't inject me with _too _many hypos I should be back on the bridge soon. Can you remain on the conn till then?"

"Yes, Captain. Spock out"

Jim closed the communicator and turned to the doctor as Bones was placing Chekov down to the floor, kneeling by him to check his pulse and scan him again.

"What was Pavel doing in his quarters?" he asked, confused, and there was a need for an answer now. He was Jim again, and Jim was Chekov's friend; teasing and antagonising him with the good natured banter between close friends. You couldn't be on a starship for as long as they had been without making firm friends of each other. So why now did Chekov appear so alone, what had made him go back into his quarters filled with smoke and nothingness when the rest of them were getting the hell off that deck? "He was helping you wasn't he?"

Bones paused, thinking fleetingly about the posture of defeat, the lack of fight in his movement, the smoke-induced tears, and knowing he could not possibly explain something like that to Jim. Not because he wouldn't understand, but because it wasn't something that could be voiced. Instead, he leant over, taking something gently out of the clasp of the Russian's fingers; a thin chain of metal hoops , which was threaded through a ring. Golden plain band, unassuming and inoffensive.

He didn't need to explain then, to see the sudden sad understanding dawning on the Captain's face. They both got the message.

* * *

"How could you be such an idiot?" Bones raged, and he saw Chekov glance down at the floor from where he was sitting on the medbay seat-cum-table where check-ups were usually performed, pink violently blushing his cheeks, standing out further against the pale of his skin. There was an awkwardness in his tense posture, trying to block out the world with his paper-like skin; paper-like and paper thick, covering what he didn't want seen ,but the shadow of his thoughts still observed through the opaqueness. Quiet and vulnerable, trapped under the bright light of the doctors gaze.

The kid had every damn right to be embarrassed, Bones's harsher side muttered , an errant thought but filled with substance, even if he did know exactly why Chekov had gone back in. Just because he understood didn't mean that he had to like it. He was a doctor, therefore his first instinct was to see people safe and out of harms reach. Cure their ills, reset what was broken, that sort of thing. He didn't particularly appreciate it when he had to go into an obviously dangerous area because someone decided to try their luck. You never played your hand with death, Bones had learned over many years, for he had a natural inclination for winning. And now that the Russian was awake and suitable recovered from near fatal smoke inhalation, Bones was ready to give one of his own personal doctors notes "You nearly _died, _Pavel. Was that what you wanted?"

"No" Chekov replied quietly, his voice still hoarse. There was still soot flecked across his uniform, and the small scratch on his forehead where he had knocked his head when he had fallen , made it appear as though he had been through some sort of battle; barely injured and victorious. But those were not the connotations that Bones saw. Bones saw the broken defenceless look of someone who wasn't winning, who didn't appear injured but had more wounds out of sight.

The doctor still didn't let up. He recognised that his own personal worries for the kid were bleeding into the argument now, but Chekov was his friend as well as a colleague; still the little brother of the alpha shift group even at twenty one. And he didn't want to lose him because of recklessness. He saw enough death as a doctor; close friends and colleagues he had seen walking the decks the day before, smiling and joking with friends, alive. You had to possess a certain level of thick skin, draw the line between fighting for someone's life and knowing when there was nothing you could do, but in that respect Bones found difficulty. He remembered every death with clarity; from the petty red-shirted officers who had only joined them at the last space dock, to the loss of those closer to his heart, signing the death certificate of people he had served with and talked with and laughed with . And he had no desire to experience any more of those moments than he needed to. Death was cheap and life was precious, especially aboard a starship. And a life could be over in a snapshot.

"Then don't be so damn callous with your own life" Bones snapped back, before he saw the look of regret in Chekov's eyes and reigned in his anger. It wasn't necessary, and his internal concern did not warrant any misplaced anger. Chekov wouldn't have deliberately gone out to get himself in danger. He just hadn't thought of what he was doing the spur of the moment, a flaw of most men. He'd followed the current with no pre-existant knowledge of the water being too deep for him to manage.

"I'm sorry Chekov" he said quietly, and the Russian nodded slightly , taking in the apology but continuing to stare at the floor , eyes unseeing. He might have been thinking about how he nearly lost his life today, Bones considered, or he might have even been thinking of another person that he had lost recently; a friend, and partner, the kind only found once in a lifetime. Found and lost in the space of four years. "Just... Just promise me you'll try not to do that again." Bones didn't want to lose anybody else.

"I promise" Chekov replied, and his voice was still hardly able to be heard, even discounting of the soreness of his throat. Most of the smoke damage Bones had been able to rectify with a tissue regenerator. And yet still Chekov wasn't fully there. Caught up in the encompassing tendrils of his thoughts, the world a gossamer reality surrounding him. With a quiet sigh drawn in deep, from his pocket Bones fished out the necklace that he'd taken from Chekov. Unfolding the Russian's un-protesting hands, he placed the cold chain and its charge at the centre of his palm.

Chekov stared at it for a second, sensing the altered temperature before he saw what Bones had given him. He stiltedly moved his other hand over, tracing his fingers over the circumference of the ring in his palm. A modest argent band, nothing special, purchased from a jeweller's market stall while on shore leave on once of the planets in the Alpha Centauri system, but that did not detract from what it meant. The significance of it.

He gazed up at Bones, and there was an unspoken thanks in his eyes; a desperate gratefulness.

"Just make sure you keep it on you next time" Bones said, trying to inject some serious gruffness into his words but failing because he didn't have the heart to be angry any more. Not when he could see the expression on Chekov's face. He thought about doing the whole hand-on-shoulder thing. Decided it wasn't the right move and so held back. "So you don't have to nearly kill yourself to get it next time" Chekov inclined his head in a nod, and Bones took in the aged look in his youthful face with knowing eyes, the quietness of his demeanour that he wore now when reminded of things he'd rather not recall.

"How are you managing ?" Bones spoke with a gentle tone, not as a doctor, but as a friend, and Chekov looked up for a tentative moment, the raw emotion in his eyes bleeding through into his visage for a moment before he blocked it out again. Shutters slamming down, blank look back. Bones didn't need to elaborate on what he meant. They both knew, both had witnessed the last few months. Bones had seen Sulu's death less than six months after the helmsman had tied the knot, had been first on the scene as Pavel had cradled his husband's form in his arms, had seen the crumpled look on the navigator's face that echoed even now, the one thing Chekov had left of Sulu apart from memories balanced in the palm of his hand. The only other memento's intangible ones, a strained character to laughter, a consistent appearance of tiredness even if Pavel had by some miracle slept that night.

Some things Bones couldn't fix. And a broken heart was one of them.

And he hated himself for it.

"I'm...coping" Pavel managed a small smile that didn't reach his eyes, and Bones nodded. It was as close a good answer as he could have expected. If Chekov had said he was ok, the doctor wouldn't have believed him, would have known by the haunted look in his eyes that he was lying outright. He wasn't alright, couldn't be ok, and even if he was slowly healing, patching up his hurts with the help of his friends and colleagues, it would be a long time before McCoy saw Pavel smile a real honest-to-god manic grin like he used to.

"We're here for you, kid" he said quietly, pushed past any feelings of awkwardness – this was _Pavel _, this was his friend – and placing a strong hand on Pavel's shoulder. Trying to convey support, while at the same time lamenting the fact that he wasn't any good at things like this. Could try his best but that was all it would ever be. He pulled it away again, giving the navigator a small smile and moving to leave him with his thoughts. He made a mental note to comm Scotty or Uhura to make come down here, sure he was ok and suitably recovered. They were better at this sort of thing than he was. Uhura could offer a feminine touch, an unquestioning shoulder to lie on, and Scotty could provide the usual male version of the same thing, a glass of the good stuff from the engineers alcoholic stash and a quiet talk. Neither solutions, but helping nonetheless.

As Bones walked away, out of the medbay to go update Jim on the relocation of deck four inhabitants, he watched Chekov drop his eyes, close his hands around the necklace tightly enough to imprint it against his skin. Like he would lose it if he didn't hold on. The posture of a man who was defined by his sadness; absorbed by it, living in symbiosis with it.

He would heal one day, become the man that Bones remembered. The smiling navigator with a spring in his step and a glow in his eyes.

But he couldn't help hope that it would be some day soon that he would get to see Pavel Chekov smile again.


End file.
